Impressions of You (The Impressions Series Book 1)

by Christopher Harlan

  “What’s wrong?” he asks in a much softer tone than the one he used to greet me.

  “Nothing, I’m good, just wasn’t expecting company, and I’m not in the mood for our little game of who can be the most sarcastic.” I speak in a less forceful voice; I know that he didn’t really want to upset me or be rude, he’s just nosy and feels most comfortable when he knows everyone else’s business. What I have with Wesley is different. I’m not sure how to define what we are yet, so I’m not sure what to tell Kevin. It was much easier in high school, when every cute boy I was interested in, or every date I went on became the script of our best-friend conversations, but it was different now; this isn’t high school, and Wesley isn’t some awkward sophomore trying to ask me to the movies . . . well, maybe the awkward part is the same.

  Kevin gives me another “I call bullshit” look, but a less intense one. Me saying that I was good is my version of “I’m fine”—basically a lie. “Oh, you’re good? I didn’t realize, I’m sorry, if I had known how good you are I would’ve come over with a bottle of pinot to go along with my winning personality.” I have to smile at that one. Even in the mood I’m in Kevin can make me feel better. I hate that we’ve grown apart these past few years. I remember how inconsolable I was when he moved away for school. I sat in my room and cried like someone had died, and Mom kept threatening to call a psychologist if I didn’t leave my room or eat something. That was a bad time for me. And now that he’s back it’s like he never left; except he did leave, and it’s been a long time since I’ve confided in him.

  “Let’s go inside,” he says as he drapes his arm around my shoulders and moves me gently towards my front door. “You can pretend to be a proper hostess and offer me some iced tea, or perhaps some of those frozen hors d’oeuvre you love to buy from those discount warehouses, and after that disgusting thing has been thawed in the microwave I’ll pretend to enjoy it while you tell me where you really were before.” I smile. He knows how to disarm me and get me to open up in that perfect Kevin way. No one else does that to me but him, and it feels so familiar and happy that I’m almost excited to tell him all about this mysterious new man.

  As we walk into my place I can’t help but think of what might have pulled Wesley away from our date. He really seemed upset, so it must be something important. He hasn’t returned my text yet; I know that he will, he seems to be good with that. But right now, the only man I need to worry about is sitting on my couch waiting for a cold iced tea and a microwaved pig in a blanket, neither of which I actually have, but Kev knows that already. What he really wants is the same thing I want from Wesley—he wants to know what’s going on, and that I trust him enough to confide in him like I used to. “No tea,” I say, “but I can offer you cold water and one hell of a story.” Kev smiles and perks up. I know the right words to use with him, and now I have his attention.

  “Well, darling, how did you know how badly I was craving a cold water?” he says in his exaggerated southern-boy tone, a huge smile sitting on his face. I forgot how handsome Kevin really is, especially when he smiles like that. He was a cute boy with a lot of potential, who could easily get any girl he wanted.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I reply coyly. “I guess it’s just your lucky day.”

  This is going to be a long conversation, I can just tell. I could go for that pinot right about now. Oh, well.

  I tell him everything: The Drip, the tall and dark beauty, the texts, the date in the park earlier, the semi-weird, unexplained departure, the kiss, and the promise of yet another date. Kevin just listens, taking it all in without interrupting or asking questions. He’s great like that—where most guys try to fix, Kevin will just listen for as long as you need him to. He’ll never interject, never judge, never try to solve all of your problems, he just takes your words and makes a file in his brain. This one will probably be labeled “Mia’s an idiot,” but as long as he doesn’t judge me openly we’re good.

  When I finish telling him everything, I’m exhausted. I could literally lay my head down and go to sleep for hours, but I want to hear what he has to say. Most times he’s ready to start dispensing advice after the last syllable has left my mouth, but for this one he seems to be deeper in thought, as though he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying the wrong thing. He knows how important his opinion is to me. Some girls might need to get their man past their parents or other family members to get to that next level of a relationship, but for me it was the opinions of my closest friends.

  “That was a lot to take in all at once,” he says. “So I’m just going to say my piece and then you can react however you react, okay? You know the deal.” I do know the deal. That’s Kev prepping me for some brutal honesty, the type that could make other people wish that they had never asked for his opinion, but I was used to his candor, it’s one of his best qualities. “This guy sounds like he may have a few issues. But I can tell that there’s something there you need to explore further.” I’m amazed by what I’m hearing, not only because I didn’t expect a “but” after all that I told him—I honestly thought Wesley didn’t come across great in my story, but also because Kevin was always a harsh critic of the guys I dated.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, curious. He pauses for a long few seconds again.

  “I don’t know—I mean, I get it, it is strange to up and leave in the middle of two different conversations, no doubt about that,” he explains. “But the truth is, Mia, whether you realize this or not, the whole time you were telling me about him your face lit up and your eyes sparkled. That has to mean something.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t realize.”

  “I know,” he says. “That’s why it seemed so genuine. You weren’t trying to convince me of anything, it was just really natural.” He’s right, and now that he’s pointed it out I can see it too. Even though it’s only been two short dates, I feel something real for Wesley, and it’s something I want to explore further. I’m happy to hear Kevin’s words, but I’m still dead tired, and I don’t feel like talking anymore. I just need a little time to rest and gather my thoughts.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, Kev,” I say with no energy left in my voice, “but I need to take a nap or something. Actually, wait, now that I think of it, it was terribly rude for you to show up unannounced and demand drinks and food, a good southern boy should know better.” He smiles at this—he knows I’m right, and he knows I need to rest.

  “No, darling, you’re correct, as always. I am being rude, and I should leave you to get some rest.” Kevin’s the best. He never makes it about what he needs; he’s always there to support me whatever way I need him to. I walk him to the door and give him a big hug, it feels good to hug him again, and I’ve missed him being in my life. Before he steps out he turns to me one more time. “Trust yourself, Mia,” he says. His voice is so serious that it focuses my attention sharply. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but you don’t need me to tell you the good guys from the bad. Trust yourself and you’ll always know the difference.”

  When Kevin leaves I undress and take a shower. I’m acting like its ten at night but it’s the middle of the afternoon. I don’t care; I need a shower and some R & R. Wrapped in a towel and soaking wet I step out of my bathroom refreshed from the cold water running over me for the past half hour. I try to distract myself with anything: TV, social media, the half-read mystery novel that’s been sitting on my nightstand with the bookmark in the same place for a solid month, anything at all.

  But I can’t shake the thoughts of him; of his blue eyes, perfectly set inside a face that conveys such complexity, and as I drift off into a daydream I see him again, tall as hell, standing over me while I sit at the park, gripping my shoulders with his fingers. I can feel his strength come through his fingertips as he touches me, and then I relive the kiss again! His lips are so soft but his kiss is firm, the perfect contrast that takes me by complete surprise. It’s better that he surprises me, with no anticipation, no awkwardness, just a private m
oment we shared in public, not caring who’s around or who sees.

  I can’t stop thinking about it. In my mind, though, the fantasy takes over, far past what actually happened, and the details flood my mind uncontrollably. Realizing that I can’t stop them—I don’t want to stop them—I sit on my bed, lean back against the softness of my pillow, close my eyes, and slide my hand underneath the towel. As I slide my fingers inside me I’m already soaking wet. There we are, our kiss lasting for an eternity. In my dream I open my eyes and we’re not in the park at all, we’re in my shower. Wesley is standing with his back to the nozzle, protecting me from the stream of hot water as the steam surrounds us and makes it hard to breathe. He’s so big in here, he towers over me, and I’m lost in the definition of his chest—bare, soaking wet, and so defined that the hot water rolls down his entire body in an s-shape, following the tanned curvature of his defined chest and abs, all the way down to his toes.

  It’s so hot in here, the steam forming perfect clouds around us, heating our bodies and blurring the lines between water and sweat, but it doesn’t matter, all either of us can feel is the heat of our bodies, pressed against each other while our lips press against one another. I can feel his massive cock hitting me, pressing against my inner thigh, and I reach down and wrap my fingers around it. When he makes a deep moaning sound I know that I’m doing the right thing—this is what he wants. I can feel him throbbing in my grip, as I try to keep my fingers clasped around him.

  My mouth finds his nipple, and I roll my tongue around it and take it between my teeth as he continues to groan, letting me know to keep going. I reach around with my free hand and grab his ass. He does the same, and pulls me even closer with minimal strength. I can’t be any closer to him at that moment, and I massage the mass of his cock with my left hand. I know he’s as turned on as I am. He leans down over me and kisses the left side of my neck so deeply that I can feel it through my entire body. He continues for a few seconds that seems like an eternity, sucking and pressing those soft lips against the nape of my neck in perfect rhythm to make me moan uncontrollably. I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m so lost in that feeling that I start to go limp. Just when I think I can’t get any hotter, he lifts his head up from my neck, and places his mouth just against my left earlobe. “Mia,” he whispers in his deep voice, “I need to be inside you right now.” My fingers move in and out faster and I’m on the verge of exploding, and then . . .

  A vibration from my phone. I’m woken from my fantasy and for a minute I’m disoriented, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. I can see my bookshelf and TV, and I can feel the loose towel draped against my naked body. I’m home. And I’m by myself. My phone vibrates a second time. Why didn’t I put that thing on silent? Right, because I’m waiting for a text from him.

  Wesley: I’m so sorry again; I don’t think I could ever apologize enough for running out on you.

  Mia: Nothing to apologize for. I was just worried about you.

  Wesley: You’re so sweet, but that’s not true. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

  Mia: I’ll hold you to that. But I’m super tired, so until tomorrow . . .

  Wesley: Until tomorrow . . .

  Mia: I’ll send you the address of my job—text me when you’re in the parking lot.

  Wesley: You got it. Good night.

  Mia: Night.

  I put my phone down for the evening, I don’t want to talk to anyone else today, I just want to relax and sleep. Maybe with more dreams of him.

  I CAN’T STOP YAWNING. You would think with a job that keeps me on my toes as much as this one does, and the amount of sleep I got last night, that the last thing I’d be doing is yawning my way through the first half of the day. I guess I still haven’t caught up on my sleep. Wesley’s right on time with his text. It’s 11:42 a.m. and he sends me a message saying that he just pulled into the lot. I knew he was coming, of course, but my heart starts beating faster when I know he’s actually here and going to come into the building to meet everyone. I leave my TA’s in charge of the class while I go to meet him at the side entrance of the building.

  The doors are locked electronically for security purposes, and I’ll need to swipe my staff ID card to let him in. When I get to the end of the hall and take the ID badge from around my neck I see that Wesley’s waiting at the curb, looking every bit as beautiful as I remember. I can see some of the other female teachers walking to their cars for lunch staring, and I don’t blame them, I’d be staring too if I just saw him standing there. He’s striking, even just standing there, with his chiseled features and muscular frame. I put up my finger to tell him to wait a second while I swipe. “Sorry,” I say as the door opens up with a loud beep, “we need extra security here.”

  He seems unsurprised. “No, don’t apologize; I get it, I’m sure your kids need to be protected, even more than most. You couldn’t have one of them accidentally open up the door and wander off into the street,” he says sounding genuinely concerned. “That would be a disaster.” There it is again, his strange empathy towards my kids and understanding of my job; he must have some background in the field, but he hasn’t mentioned anything, and he’s had plenty of opportunities to do so.

  “Yeah, exactly, and there are other security issues also. We’ve had a few nasty custody battles go on with some of our parents, and we’ve had several kidnapping alerts.”

  “Jesus, that’s scary stuff. And who the hell . . .” his voice rises into an angry tone real suddenly, and I can see him take a deep breath to get his composure. “What kind of monster would do such a thing?”

  “Well luckily we’ve never actually had an incident, just a few alerts and dismissal instructions that were very specific, but no one’s ever gone missing, thank God.”

  As we walk back down the hallway to my classroom Wesley’s having the same effect on the rest of the female staff inside as he did on the ones in the parking lot. I’d have to be blind to not notice their stares, and knowing what gossip-hounds these girls are, I can only imagine what the topics of discussion over the next few days will be, behind my back. In this case I’ll gladly be the subject of their whispers. It’s funny, though, I can’t stop noticing all of the women breaking their necks to see Wesley as we walk by, but he doesn’t seem to notice them. He’s speaking to me the whole time, and he’s tuned in to exactly what we’re saying to one another. When he’s not looking at me his eyes are forward, and he’s walking a little bit faster than I like to, I try to keep up with his pace to make him more comfortable.

  When we get to my classroom Rachel, my younger TA who’s still getting her undergrad degree, is chasing Sara around the room while she yells at the top of her lungs. I’m sure to Wesley’s eyes it looks ridiculous, but I don’t even have time to notice because I leave him at the door and literally run to help Rachel. Sara runs past me and towards the door; she’s a runner, and has gotten out of the classroom a few times before. One time she ran all the way to my director, Dr. Fisher’s office, before I caught up to her. Today there’s not going to be any action-movie like chase, because she runs head first into the mountain of Wesley Marsden, who’s standing at the classroom door. “Why, hello there,” he says, as Sara practically slams into him. “Where are you going?” Sara stops in her tracks and looks up at Wesley like a tourist in Manhattan taking pictures of the skyscrapers.

  “You’re big,” she says to him, her neck angled upwards towards his face and her eyes wide open in amazement, causing Wesley to smile ear to ear.

  “Well, we can’t have that now; it isn’t fair, is it.” He drops down to one knee to be on her eye level, and even on his knees he’s significantly taller than Sara. He speaks to her in a deep, gentle tone, “See, now we’re the same size, so it’s fair, right?” Sara cracks a little smile, which is rare for her, and Rachel and I stand back and watch this whole scene unfold, absolutely amazed.

  “What’s your name, Mister?” she asks, noticeably calmer than she was when we first
walked in. Wesley extends his hand to her as if they really were the same size.

  “I’m Wesley, I’m Miss Careri’s good friend. She invited me here to meet all of you.”

  “She did? How come?” Sara asks.

  “Because she was telling me all about what a great class you are, and how much she loves coming here to teach you every day.”

  “She was?”

  “Uh-huh. She even mentioned you by name, Sara. Do you know what she told me?” He leans in towards her ear like he’s going to whisper something, and to my amazement she didn’t recoil at all. Sara has tactile issues and really doesn’t like to be touched, but I see him say something in her ear without her moving, and when he pulls back Sara has a big smile on her face. She runs over to me and I let her grab onto my hand, even though I’m still a little traumatized from her bite last time. She tugs at my wrist and I crouch down in the same way as Wesley had, and let her put her face to my ear.

  “He said that I’m your favorite and very smart, Miss Careri,” she whispers softly so that no one could hear, and I give her a big hug.

  “Well, if what Wesley told you is true, Sara, then don’t you have to stay in the room with all of us so that he can see how smart you are?” She nods and goes back to her table as Rachel and I exchange looks of complete disbelief. We both look over at Wesley who was now standing back at his full height, and he shrugs his shoulders at us. “Okay,” I yell out to the class, “I need all of my friends at the table, we have a new friend to meet. I need everyone in their seats in five, four, three, two and one.” Everyone sits down by the time I finish the countdown, including Sara, who I notice can’t stop staring up at Wesley as she listens to my directions. “Friends, this is Wesley, can you all say hello to him?” A cacophony of “Hi, Wesley,” rings out in the class, and he waves back and says hello to each of them.