by Violet Paige
“Hey, it’s your sister. Mom is worried about you. Call her, please.”
I hung up and regretted not saying something about how I was worried too. That it mattered to me where he was. I started scrolling through all the social media sites I knew he used. When things were going well for him he liked to post pictures. He’d check in at a park, or upload a shot of a sunset. I didn’t see anything recent on his accounts. I tried not to let that worry me. It had happened before.
I called my mother to let her know I didn’t have anything to report.
The phone rang a few times before she answered. “Hey, honey.” She sounded calmer than before, casual.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked. I was going to suggest she check with his friend Chris. He might have better luck locating him.
“Oh, yes. He’s here. I just fixed him a sandwich.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
“You what?” I felt the irritation crawl over my skin. “Garret’s there? Eating a sandwich?”
“Mmmhmm. You were right. He was out for a walk. Nothing to worry about.”
“Mom, you should have texted me or left me a voicemail,” I lectured. I felt the heat in my neck.
She sighed. “I didn’t think about it I guess. And he needs lunch. He was hungry after all that exercise.”
I gritted my teeth. “He’s not hungry. He’s bi-polar. He needs help, not food.”
My mom hated the word. She hated the diagnosis. Dad wouldn’t even mention it. He pretended it wasn’t true.
“Emily,” she whispered, probably so my brother wouldn’t hear her scold me.
“I’m glad he’s ok. I have to get back to clinic.” I couldn’t stomach it.
“Okay, hon. Thanks for checking with us.”
I didn’t have the patience to ask for any more details or bother talking to my brother. He was twenty-eight. At some point our mother had to stop treating him like a small child. He had to take responsibility for his life. I hadn’t been able to convince anyone of that yet.
“Bye, Mom.”
I hung up and shoved my phone in my bag. What was wrong with them? Why couldn’t they deal with it on their own? Why bring me into something that was a nothing?
I decided to skip the rest of my lunch hour. I had lost my appetite. I turned for the clinic building and smiled at Meg when I walked toward her desk.
The waiting room was full.
“I’m back.” I nodded at her.
From my brief introduction with the clerk I knew she was studying human rights law and was trying to get as many hours at the clinic as she could this semester.
She had round glasses and a bob haircut that I wished I could pull off.
“You cut your lunch short,” she observed.
“Too many people here need me,” I answered. “Who’s next?”
“I’ll send someone in.”
“Good.” I walked into my shared office.
The space was cramped. My officemate was still at lunch so it was a good time to try to see as many people as I could. Next week it would be even harder to work in here when we were assigned students to mentor.
Her name was Addie Brownley, and she seemed nice enough. We didn’t have much time to trade backgrounds or war stories. As soon as she walked in she had a client and I was wrapping up with mine. I hoped she was someone I would enjoy working with.
I opened my laptop. I had to forget about Garrett. I had to forget about the insane conversation I’d just had with my mother.
I needed to focus on how I could help the women who were here with legitimate challenges in their lives.
People came here seeking help. They were trying to make changes in their lives, or fight for justice. They were willing to do something about it. To take a stand. To challenge what was wrong.
They needed me. And they were willing to listen to what I had to say. They took my advice. They heard what I said.
The three women I had seen this morning had come here because there was nowhere else for them to go. One was being sexually harassed at work. Another was fighting for custody of her children, and the third client was fighting a wrongful eviction.
I could make a difference here—something I hadn’t been able to do at home.
I looked up from my computer when my first afternoon appointment walked in. She dabbed a tissue at the corner of her eyes before balling it into her fist.
“Hi, I’m Emily Charles. Please take a seat.”
She shuffled into the chair. It squeaked as the legs slid along the hardwood floor.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” I offered.
She looked around the cramped office. “I don’t know if I should have come.”
I had a gut reaction to her presence. To know what it felt like to think asking for help was a mistake. To question having vulnerability.
I tried to reassure her with a smile. “Maybe you could talk me through your situation a little bit. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Her eyes misted again and I looked around for a tissue to offer her.
“I-I’ve never done anything like this.”
“It’s hard sometimes to ask for help.” I paused. “I don’t know what to tell you since I don’t know why you’re here, but I can’t help if you don’t at least share your story.”
“My story?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Everyone has a story that brings them through those doors. I’ll do my best to help you. To fight for you. But you have to take that next step. Otherwise, I need to help one of those other women sitting out there.” I looked over her shoulder to the waiting area.
“I understand,” she whispered.
I thought she was going to stand to leave, but instead she cleared her throat and
started her story from the beginning.
My second night after work the stairs to the rooftop apartment didn’t seem so treacherous. I credited the Keds.
I turned the key in the lock and let myself in. It was quiet inside. It seemed unlikely Greer would be home early two nights in a row.
I grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, a glass, and walked onto the patio. It was nice out here. Greer had hung a few strands of lights overhead. I bent to plug them in, and noticed a radio splattered with paint in the back corner. It was under a small overhang. I turned it on and smiled when I heard the song.
From what she’d told me, this apartment never officially went on the market. Greer found out from one of her analyst friends that it was available. That was how things worked in D.C. There was an unspoken real estate market where houses and apartments were traded among friends and co-workers.
I sat under the twinkle of the lights and watched the sun set over Adams Morgan while I sipped my chilled glass of wine. I kicked one ankle over the other and relaxed into the chaise lounge.
I was two sips in when my phone started to ring. I winced thinking it could be my mother again with another false emergency, or worse, my brother calling to rant about what happened today.
I didn’t recognize the number and then I realized who it was. Vaughn. I had never added his name to my contacts.
“Hello?”
“Is this the pretty girl I met last night?” The deep timbre in his voice made me smile.
“Depends on how many girls you met, I guess.”
“Oh yeah, this is the one. The smartass.” He chuckled.
I leaned into my chair. “Hey, there.”
“It’s not Friday, and I know a lot of idiots wait for that three-day calling rule, but you’ll learn quickly I don’t play by those rules.”
I sat forward in my chair. He had my full attention.
“I’m coming to pick you up,” he reported.
“You are?” I almost choked on my wine.
“Text me your address and I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Where are we going?” I hadn’t agreed, but he hadn’t asked either.
“It’s a surprise.”
I twisted my li
ps together. I liked this kind of game. “What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see.” He paused. “And wear something short. I like your legs.”
My eyes widened. Had he been checking out my legs last night? I knew I should say something about how objectified that made me feel, but it didn’t. I was turned on.
“And if I can’t find something short? You know I haven’t unpacked everything,” I taunted.
He chuckled. “I think you’ll find something. Send me the address. I’ve changed my mind—I’ll be there in twenty.”
He hung up and my screen went black.
Holy shit. I gulped the rest of the wine either as a way to convince myself to keep moving forward or so later I could tell myself I was going along with this because I was tipsy. Either way it was pumping through my veins and I hustled to my room to find a short skirt to show off my legs for a man I barely knew.
I cursed myself for not unpacking sooner. I shoved one box out of the way and then another until I found one that had my going out clothes. Nightlife in New Bern wasn’t exactly exciting, but I did go out for drinks sometimes and in the past year I’d had a few dates. The problem was most of them never lead to a second or third date. It was one more reason moving to bigger city made sense.
I pulled a black dress out of the box and quickly dashed to the bathroom to reapply my makeup.
Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door.
I ran through the living room and the narrow kitchen, pulling the door open.
Vaughn filled the frame. His eyes sparked and immediately dropped to my thighs.
“Sexy.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I stepped back to let him in, feeling confident he liked the dress. It was the shortest black one I had.
“And where am I going in this short dress?” I asked.
He walked into the living room and looked around. “I told you it was a surprise.”
He looked just as edible as he had last night. Part of me was reassured he wasn’t a dream or a vision I had concocted. He was wearing dark charcoal pants that showed how athletic his shape was. He had a crisp white buttoned shirt. And he was wearing the same intoxicating cologne.
“This is a cool place.” He walked toward the deck. “You said you have a roommate?”
I stood next to him. I had left the lights on and they twinkled from the posts.
“Yes. We were college roommates. Five years later we’re living together again. I think it will be fun.”
He nodded. His eyes were focused on something in the distance. He slid the door open and stepped onto the roof.
“Is she home?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. She works late most of the time.”
He saw the bottle of wine and the empty glass.
“Is she going to be home anytime soon?”
I hadn’t seen Greer since the bar last night. I hadn’t called her all day either. “I don’t know.” I stepped outside to join him. “I better unplug these if we’re going to leave.” I walked around to reach for the lights.
As I bent over to jerk the plug from the wall Vaughn came up behind me.
“Leave them.”
I stood slowly, feeling how close he was to my back.
“But I thought you wanted…”
He spun me around to face him. I searched the darkness of his eyes, recognizing the look of hunger as his mouth brushed against my lips.
“I said leave them,” he growled before taking my mouth under his with a rough kiss.
Instinctively I wrapped my hands around his neck, tugging him closer to me, deepening the kiss with sudden urgency.
This wasn’t like last night. This wasn’t the romance of a first kiss. This was the thirst for wanting it again—wanting more. There was no one watching. No driver waiting. Only Vaughn and me on a twinkle-lit rooftop.
I gasped when I felt the roughness of his palm cup my ass. He gripped it firmly and squeezed, but the kiss never stopped. He sucked and tugged at my lips, letting his tongue dart next to mine before sinking his teeth along my bottom lip. I moaned.
My eyes opened and he stared at me intently.
He took a heavy breath. My chest heaved and I noticed his hand was still holding my ass. I didn’t dare move or wiggle out of his hold. I liked how possessive it felt. I liked how this man knew exactly what he wanted.
My body eased into his and I tipped forward, drawing his lips to mine. I wanted more. His tongue lashed back and forth while my arms circled the toned muscles of his back. The ridges flexed and contracted under my touch.
While one hand pinned my waist, the other was moving in circles, massaging my ass, until the lace I was wearing was shoved to the side. He slid his fingers from the small of my back over the curve of my cheek, plunging them between my slit. I whimpered, but he held me steady.
“This wasn’t what I was planning, but I like your kind of surprise better, Emily.” He breathed in my ear while he pried my folds and I rocked into his fingers. My head rolled back. “Do you like it?”
“Mmmhmm.” I closed my eyes as the sensations took over.
He kissed the side of my neck and swept his lips over my throat. My hips moved with the rhythm his fingers created.
“God, you’re fucking sexy.” He caressed me, taking my mouth with a hard kiss. My knees almost buckled.
The world felt dizzy and surreal as if I existed in a body that only felt the electric waves Vaughn passed along to me. Every time he touched me I felt something new. Something I’d never experienced. The kisses. The looks. The need.
I clung to him while his fingers expertly moved in and out of me, pushing me closer to the point where I lost control. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to lose control with him so quickly. But here I was on the roof. Under the stars, Under the lights. Kissing him, with his hand under my dress.
The coiling tightened deep in my belly. My legs felt detached from the rest of me. The only reason I was standing was because Vaughn held me up.
My breath quickened and I knew I was standing on the tightrope. One more thrust and I’d fall over the side, gliding down through the air, through the heat, through the magic of stardust and glitter.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered. I could tell him to stop. I could back away from his hold. I could stop kissing him. But I wanted to take one foot off the tightrope. I wanted to fall through the ecstasy.
I looked into his eyes, and I swore Vaughn could read me. He knew what I wanted. He held my gaze while pumping his fingers in and out of me, never letting my eyes wander. Never letting me close my eyes.
And that’s when I fell.
I spiraled off the tightrope. My body flew through the mist and the haze. It shivered and trembled with pleasure. Vaughn held me as the orgasm spiraled through me, binding me to him with an intimate secret we now shared.
I bit my lip. I couldn’t catch my breath.
Vaughn eased his fingers from me and straightened my panties and the hem of my dress. He kissed the top of my forehead.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
I was speechless. Breathless and speechless.
It had happened so quickly. There wasn’t time to think or talk myself out of it. And I liked it. I liked being impulsive and reckless. I was drawn to him. I knew it the instant I backed into him with my chair. I wasn’t going to start second-guessing it now.
He held out a hand. “We still have time for my surprise. Want to go?” He winked.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe that he would want to take me to bed. That he’d want something in return. But he seemed satisfied. I didn’t expect the date to keep going. I felt a new kind of flutter in my stomach. The kind that said this could be something real. Something other than a hot guy who liked sex.
I smiled. “Is there food involved? Because I’m kind of starving.” I might as well test him.
He laughed. “There is food. I think I promised you last night I’d be your D.C. tour guide.”
“Is that what you pr
omised?”
I made sure to turn off the radio and the lights as we walked into the living room. I locked the sliding door behind us.
“I don’t make many promises.”
I felt a shiver. There it was again. The part of him that I was intrigued by. The part that said there was something mysterious and dark about him. He didn’t reveal much. He could seduce. He could flirt. He could sure as hell kiss. But there was some kind of wall—I could see it in his eyes. I recognized it last night.
And I was one of those girls who couldn’t walk away from the guy who had walls and secrets.
I was like a moth to a flame. It was my weakness. The bad boy. The man buried behind a mountain of pain. The guy who gave his emotions in bed, but never out loud.
“Ready?” Vaughn asked. He stood next to the door.
Maybe I should tell myself to end it now. To fake a headache before he stole another kiss. To delete his number so I didn’t end up letting him fuck me the rest of the night. To lock the door as soon as he walked past me so I could avoid the heartache that was inevitably going to follow. But I knew I couldn’t. Vaughn was already under my skin.
I smiled. “Let’s go.”
4
I held the bar lightly overhead on the Metro. My fingers clasped the metal with hesitation. I was still trying to adjust to public transportation. I tried to visualize the hundreds of people before me who had stood in this spot today going to work, or riding home. How they had been staggered in here shoulder to shoulder, avoiding eye contact.
Vaughn’s hand tucked around my waist. He still hadn’t revealed where we were going. As the car swayed, he applied pressure to my back, making sure I didn’t tip with the momentum. It felt good. It felt safe. As if this man I barely knew had me.
“Should I start guessing?” I asked.
“You could try.”
I pinched my lips together. I didn’t know anything about D.C. other than the most famous national landmarks. Most of them were closed this late in the evening.
“Can you give me clue? Any kind of a hint?”
I looked into his dark eyes. He didn’t give anything away. If he was being playful, I couldn’t tell. There was a seriousness beneath him that never wavered.
