by J. Lea
“Shh, it’s okay, your muscles are so tense.” Calmly, he continued kneading. “If you’re going to practice more, you’ll need massages, too. Every professional athlete needs them.”
“Aren’t I too young for that?” I asked.
“No, many of my protégées decided to get them, and they weren’t even half as good as you are. Massage helps with relaxation, and muscles show better regeneration.”
“But I didn’t go to massage before, and I was still successful.”
“I’ll have a word with your father.” His voice was firm and decisive. I swallowed the lump in my throat, regarding him warily, and waiting for the moment he would release my foot so I could run out of the office.
I pursed my lips in a straight line. “Can I go now?” I was so uncomfortable I wanted to hide in a hole and never come out again.
“Relax, I’m just giving you a massage.”
“I a-am relaxed,” I stammered. “I need to go, my dad’s probably already wondering where I am.” Coach nodded, running his hand down my calf once again, and then he let go of my leg.
“Go, now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I didn’t hesitate; I ran out of his office like my feet were on fire. When I exited the stadium, and saw Simon waiting for me with a grin on his face, I could finally breathe normally again.
Chapter Seven
August 2014
18 years old
“You look beautiful,” Parker complimented me when he came to pick me up for our dinner.
“Thank you,” I smiled and entered the car.
I decided on a simple black sleeveless summer dress. It wasn’t too tight, but it fit me perfectly. I complimented the dress with black ballet flats. Tasteful but simple, yet still elegant enough for a dinner with Parker. Parker looked perfect, like always. He was dressed in jean shorts and a button up shirt that fit him like a glove.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as we drove past the shopping mall, and then he turned left.
“You’ll see.”
“Another surprise?” I raised my eyebrow.
“Sort of.”
Five minutes later, we came to a stop in front of a smaller single-story house with a brown fence surrounding it.
“Where are we?” The house looked nothing like a restaurant. “Aren’t we going to dinner?”
“Yes, we’ll dine here.”
“And what is here?”
“This is my home.”
What? He took me to his place? “Seriously?”
“Yes, why?” He turned to me as he turned off the engine.
“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know you’re not some serial killer or something like that?” I half-joked, half meant it.
“Lori,” he said in his low voice, and extended his hand toward me. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and gave me a gentle look. “If you’d rather we go to a restaurant, just say the word. But, seriously, I just wanted to make you dinner. And spend some time only in your company, so I could get to know you better. I like you. Nothing else. I promise.”
Even though I knew him only for a few days, my instincts were telling me I could trust him. I didn’t know why, but my inner voice told me he was a nice guy. And my instincts never let me down.
“I swear, I’m not a serial killer. I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He shook, and a grimace of disgust crossed his face, which brought a big grin on my face.
I poked my finger into his chest repeatedly, saying, “Okay then. But make sure the dinner is delicious.”
“It’s going to be divine, you have my word.”
He came around the car, gallantly opened my door, and offered me his hand. I placed my hand in his, and he helped me get out. Then, he moved his hand to the small of my back, and gently led me to the front door of his home. While he was unlocking the door, I took in my surroundings. The dusk was already falling, so I couldn’t see much but the two rows of cute, terraced houses with picket fences, and trees lining the sidewalk. The neighborhood looked friendly, and during the day, I bet it was alive with residents walking their dogs, and children playing on the street.
The second Parker swung open the door, something big and furry jumped at him. I jerked back in surprise, but then quickly realized it was a dog enthusiastically greeting Parker. The dog’s fur was golden brown and shiny, glistening in the light of the foyer. He was wagging his tail, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth.
“Calm down, buddy,” Parker kneeled down to muss his fur with both hands.
“You have a dog?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes. This is King. He’s been with me for two years now.”
“He’s gorgeous,” I cooed at him, petting his head when he finally calmed down.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just go wash my hands, and then I’ll start with the dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I nodded.
Parker was chopping vegetables when I joined him in the kitchen. “Need any help?”
“No, just sit down, and keep me company.”
“How old is King?” I climbed on a bar stool by the kitchen island where Parker was chopping away at the onions. King lay down at my feet, wagging his tail incessantly.
“He’s three. I brought him home from a shelter when he was about a year old. We’re inseparable. Isn’t that right, King?” At the mention of his name, King snapped his head up, pointed his ears, gave out a little bark, and wagged his tail some more. I bent down and patted his head. He was a golden retriever— one of my favorites.
“Do you like dogs?” Parker asked, his eyes never leaving the counter where he was preparing the meat.
“Very much. When I was little, I desperately wanted one, but Mom was against it,” I shrugged. “We did have guinea pigs and parrots, which was not that bad.”
I slid out of my chair and sauntered to the stereo system in the living room.
“Can I?” I pointed at the power button.
“Of course.”
As I turned on the stereo, a song started blasting from the speakers. I wondered what his music taste was, so I ran my hand over the neatly stacked CDs from the shelf on the wall. There were mainly rock albums.
“What music do you like?” he asked me.
“I pretty much listen to everything. I’m not picky.” I took the Jon Bon Jovi CD out of its case, and slid it into the stereo. As soon as the refrain of a popular song came on, I belted out along with the singer. Parker turned to study me with a raised eyebrow.
“You keep on surprising me.” He walked over to me.
“I like to sing.”
“I like your voice,” he said.
I scrunched my nose at him. “I think you need to clean your ears out,” I chuckled. My singing resembled a squawking crow. “Sing along with me.” I pulled him over to me and started singing out loud.
“Ha, ha. No,” he said.
“Come on, just the refrain.” I stuck my lower lip out. He shook his head. “Pretty please,” I fluttered my eyelashes.
Sighing, he gave in. “Just the refrain.”
I clapped my hands together in excitement, and we shouted out the lyrics to another big Jon Bon Jovi hit. He was slightly uncomfortable, but it meant a lot to me that he was willing to do it for me. When the song ended, I broke out in laughter. “You were terrible.”
“Take it back.” Parker’s lips curled up. I shook my head no. “Take it back,” he repeated. I shook my head again, my lips twitching. Suddenly, he bent down and scooped me over his right shoulder. I shrieked with laughter. “Will you take it back now?”
“Never,” I giggled.
He threw me on the couch that dominated the center of the room. Before he could climb on top of me, I scooted back, climbed over the arm of the couch, and ran to King, laughing the whole time. I hugged the dog. “Help me, buddy.” He lifted his head, wagged his tail, and licked my cheek in agreement. He stood up on all fours, as I crouched behind him.
“Tra
itor,” Parker shook his head at King. He pointed his finger accusingly at him. “You were supposed to be on my side.”
“Good boy.” My grin split my face in two, and King happily stood by my side while I scratched him under his chin.
“Try this,” Parker brought the wooden ladle with a spoonful of vegetables that he roasted in the pan, along with the meat, to my mouth. I opened my lips, my eyes glued to his. “Tell me what you think.”
My taste buds exploded with the goodness of the bite. “Mmm, what is this? It tastes incredible.”
He grinned in delight. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Very funny,” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, where did you learn how to cook like that?”
“Mostly from my mother.” He shook his head. “She always said that a man is not a man if he doesn’t know how to cook. Also, that women love it when a man knows his way around the kitchen.”
“She’s right,” I said. “There’s nothing sexier than a man behind a stove. Well, except…” I bit my tongue, blushing furiously. I felt so comfortable around Parker that words kept rushing out of my mouth without a filter.
“Except?” He regarded me curiously.
“Nothing…” I shook my head.
“I don’t think so. You were about to say something.” He watched me as if he already knew what I was going to say.
“Forget it,” I waved my hand, giving him a small smile.
He pointed the ladle at me, flashing his white grin. “Someday, you’re going to finish that sentence.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“Come on, dinner is ready. Let’s eat.”
When we sat down by the kitchen table, Parker filled our plates with delicious mixture of pasta, thinly sliced pork, and some vegetables. In the end, he sprinkled the plates with a pinch of coriander. I’ve eaten Asian food several times before, but nothing that looked, and smelled, so delicious.
“Just a second,” he said, and turned to call King to his side. “Come, buddy.” He walked with the dog to the entrance door where King had his bowls for food and water. He also got his feast, and he immediately stuck his nose into the food. As Parker walked back to the table, I couldn’t help myself checking him out. He was so handsome my mouth started watering; he was lean and athletic, and his button up shirt clung to his sculpted chest like second skin, which I desperately wanted to tear it off him to see what was hiding beneath it. When he walked past me, his smell, a combination of Asian spices and citrus, invaded my senses. There was nothing special about the smell of his aftershave, but every time I caught a whiff of the scent, I got overwhelmed.
The first couple of minutes we ate in silence, enjoying the delicious meal, but I broke it soon after. “You really know how to impress a girl, huh?” I reached for my glass of lemonade Parker had poured me before dinner. He even lit a candle and placed it at the center of the table to create a romantic atmosphere. “What else are you good at?” I said curiously, before taking a sip of the wine.
“You’ll have to go out with me again to find out,” he winked at me. I grinned at him. He made me feel so comfortable around him, like everything in my life was perfectly fine. And it felt incredible. I hadn’t felt this good in a few years, and I didn’t even know I’d missed it so badly. I needed it. Perhaps it was time I opened up to someone again. Maybe not right away, but soon. When the right time comes. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but keeping secrets is not a good way to go about starting a relationship. And Parker was the only man who made my heart beat faster, who made me want more from life. And the first man whose touch I hadn’t shied away from.
“What are you thinking about?” His question brought me back to reality.
“Nothing,” I quickly replied, smiling bitterly to myself. I tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“I was starting to think I was boring you.”
“No, not even close. I just get carried away into another world sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I do that sometimes, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. It happens when I’m bored, or I don’t have the desire to talk to someone.” His words were laced with laughter.
I laughed, and hit him playfully in the shoulder with my fist. We sat just close enough that I could reach him if I extended my arm. “Smarty-pants.”
“Ouch. Damn, girl, you’re stronger than I thought.” He rubbed his shoulder, scrunching his face as if it actually hurt.
“Oh, don’t be such a wuss. Do you need me to blow on it to make it feel better?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know what, I think you should.” He tried to keep his face straight, but he was failing.
“Fine,” I shook my head. “Such a baby.” I stuck my tongue out to him, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Where does it hurt?” Parker started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m opening the shirt so you could blow on my wound to make me feel better.”
I thought he’d only been joking. As he undid the top two buttons, he pulled the shirt open so his shoulder was exposed. His hard chest was smooth and toned. “Here, now blow.” I could barely focus as I took in his olive-toned skin and his incredible smell. My breath hitched in my throat. My eyes traveled from his exposed shoulder to his eyes and back down. Taking a deep breath, I tried hard to pretend the sight of him didn’t affect me.
“Okay.” I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I just pressed them to my hips so they wouldn’t wander upwards and started exploring his strong body. Stepping more closer to him, I locked my gaze with his again. He run his tongue over his lower lip before I lowered my eyes, pursed my lips and gently blew on the skin of his shoulder. “Better now?” Clearing my throat, I didn’t even know when I’d closed my eyes but as I opened them again, Parker was smirking down at me.
“Seriously? This is all you’ve got?!” he exclaimed.
“Hey, I did my best. If you don’t like it, do it yourself, mister. And if you keep messing with me, I’ll punch you in the other shoulder.” My finger stabbed his chest. Leaning my head to the side in challenge, I put my left arm on my hip. I tried to appear menacing, but I was failing miserably.
“So violent,” he shook his head, smiling. “Come here,” he said. A foot and a half separated us.
“No,” I challenged him, and shot him a suspicious glare, curling the right side of my lip up.
“Come here,” he repeated, grabbing my hand and pulling me to him. “Let me show you how it’s done.” I raised a questioning gaze to him. We were dangerously close, but to me it still seemed miles apart. He gently tilted my head to the side with his left hand, so he had complete access to my throat, causing butterflies in my belly. One of his hands was on the small of my back, the other still gripping mine. My breathing grew rapid and erratic, and as soon as I felt his warm breath on my throat, my eyes grew heavy-lidded, and I could barely contain a whimper that threatened at the back of my throat. My knees turned to jelly, and I was glad he was holding me; otherwise, I’d probably slump to the floor. When his breath suddenly disappeared, I straightened up and opened my eyes. I blinked a few times to clear my head. Parker’s lips were inches away from mine, and our gazes locked. The world around us disappeared into a blur, and I felt like we were floating in the air. Just his breath on my skin could turn me into mush; I wondered what would happen if he kissed me. I bit the inside of my cheek, cleared my throat, and took a step back so he was forced to let me go. With my head bent, I turned away from him, running a hand over my face. How did we come from having a pleasant, innocent dinner to this? And how could it be that I already missed his hands on me? I desperately wanted for him to kiss me, but my damned past was still holding me back.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don’t be.” Parker scratched his head. “Do you want more lemonade?” he said as he picked up the empty plates from the table and carried them to the sink
.
“No, thank you. I’ll just have a glass of water.” I walked to the living room to create some distance between us so I can cool down a little. What is wrong with me? I wanted him to kiss me, so why did I withdraw? I knew, why. Fear. I was afraid how his kiss would make me feel. I didn’t want to relive my sordid past, but it was the thing that was holding me back. Yet I couldn’t just blab it out; what would Parker think of me?
“You okay?” Parker’s voice made me jump, and I turned to him and nodded, plastering a smile on my face.
“Yes, of course.”
He plopped down on the couch and patted the spot next to him, where I joined him.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sure. What movies do you have?” He placed some DVDs on the coffee table. I noticed it was mostly action films, one of them being Contraband, featuring Mark Wahlberg.
“I love Mark, can we watch this one?”
“Of course.” He slid the DVD into the player and sat back down. “Mark Wahlberg, huh?” he teased me.
“Yes. Look at him; he’s perfect.”
He made a face. “I’d much rather watch you than him,” he winked at me. I tilted my head to the side, and looked at him with a soft smile on my face. I then leaned back against the soft couch when I noticed Parker holding out his hand to me, his fingers in a fist.
“What do you have there?” I spread apart his fingers, and saw a fortune cookie.
“For you,” he said contentedly. “You said they were your favorite, right?” I stared into his eyes, speechless. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, had ever been as attentive to me. Least of all remembered such a small detail as me liking fortune cookies. My stomach started doing somersaults, and I grinned at Parker, my eyes brimming with joy.
“Thank you,” I breathed out. I wanted to kiss him right then and there. No matter the consequences. I tore my eyes from his and split the cookie in two to see what the message said. “The biggest risk is not taking a risk at all,” I read out loud so Parker could hear. I raised my head. “What does yours say?”
“It says: You’ll be hungry again in an hour.” We broke out in laughter. The tension in the air from when I turned my head away from his kiss slowly faded away, and we comfortably settled on the couch to watch the movie. About half an hour later, Parker reached his hand behind my back, and wrapped it on my shoulders, his eyes asking for permission. I answered him by pressing my side to his chest. As the film was nearing the end, I suddenly felt the gentle caress of his fingers on my bare shoulder, sliding up and down as far as his hand reached. I turned my gaze to his, but he seemed completely immersed in the action on the television. A few minutes later, I stole another glance at him, and this time I caught him watching me. I smiled at him, and turned my focus back on the film, but I could still feel the intense heat of his gaze boring into me. I wondered what he was thinking about.
