Rising (Vincent and Eve Book 1)
Page 12
“Wait,” she asks me nervously. “You didn’t have sex, right?”
My eyes widen with surprise and I laugh. “No! Absolutely not. We just made out and like, some other stuff…”
“Some other stuff?” She immediately sits up, wanting to know every detail.
“Yeah, like, I don’t know. We made out. He touched me…uh, a little.” I take a nervous breath. “I kind of had my first…you know...”
Her eyebrows rise up as she turns to me, smiling with surprise and shock. “Je-sus, Eve. Orgasm? If you can’t say orgasm, God won’t ever let you have one again. You know this rule, right? If you want it, you need to be mature enough to say it!” She’s laughing hard, practically doubling over.
I’m so embarrassed I cover my face with the pillow. When I finally move it away to look back up at her, her eyes are sparkling with excitement.
“Eve. I’m seriously dying right now. God knows you’re old enough. I need details! Did the guy have a huge dick? How was his tongue?” She raises her eyebrows up and down and I quickly bring the pillow over my head for a second time. “Well?” she asks expectantly, moving it away from my face.
“Janelle…it was…” All I can do is let out a heavy sigh, focusing my gaze on the ceiling. She lays back down next to me. “I know. When it’s like that…it’s everything.”
Words just can’t describe it. Instead of pressing me for more information, she throws her leg over mine and pulls me close to her. Janelle understands I’m not ready to talk, and she gives me the space I need. God, I love her.
“I’m so happy for you right now, Eve. I feel like my heart is about to burst. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”
I let out a hum in response. I finally shut my eyes again, and he’s all I see.
CHAPTER 11
The following weeks pass in a blur of school during the week and Angelo’s on the weekends. I haven’t heard from Vincent at all, but I’m too nervous to reach out to him. If he wanted to talk to me, he would have taken my number, right? Regardless, our times together are still on repeat through my head.
I grab my bag to leave Angelo’s and type in the numbers for the alarm. I step outside and zip up my light jacket. It’s going to be a cold winter for sure.
Shutting the door behind me, I pause when I see who’s waiting out front. Vincent is casually leaning against his car, looking down at his phone. I stand there for a moment in wonder. Is he here for… me?
He glances up, dark eyes drinking me in as if I’m the first good thing he’s seen in quite some time. I tentatively walk up to him, but he doesn’t let my shyness dictate the moment. Instead, he takes my hand and pulls me flush against him, swallowing me up in a warm bear hug. I let out a sigh as I melt into his warmth. He smells so good. Part of me wants to ask him where he’s been. But the bigger part of me is so deliriously happy, I can do nothing other than gush at the fact that he’s here.
He finally lets me go and wordlessly opens the car door, inviting me inside. I hop in and buckle up as Vincent shuts the door behind me. The car is so warm compared to the cold temperatures outside right now. He takes his seat, immediately grabbing my hand and smiling as if we were just together yesterday.
“How are you?” he asks, his voice full of gentleness.
“I’m great!” I tell him overenthusiastically. He chuckles at my excitement. “So, where are we going?” The happiness pulses through my veins; I can’t contain it!
“I thought maybe we’d go to Wolman Rink in Central Park. Have you ever been skating?”
My smile stretches from ear to ear. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that!” I stop myself before I tell him that I used to dream of being a figure skater, even though I’ve technically never been on ice. I’ve skated lots of times in my mind though, so it’s sort of like the real thing, right? I mean, how hard can it actually be?
He winks. “I guess I’ll have to show you how.” I’m staring out the window, daydreaming about how he’ll hold me close to his body as we skate, hand in hand. It will be so romantic.
We pull into a parking garage near Central Park on Sixth Avenue. Vincent tells me to wait as he steps out of the car, throwing his keys to the valet before coming around and opening my door.
“Do you know him?” I ask, turning my head for a moment to get a look at the attendant. Maybe that’s the normal way people treat car attendants, how should I know? From what I see about Vincent, he lives in a world that’s totally foreign to me.
“Nah. But I know the owner of the garage, so most of the guys who work there know me.” He’s so nonchalant, walking forward like he’s the master of his universe.
We walk through Central Park from the Fifty-Ninth Street entrance. Walking down a small hill toward the rink, the first thing I notice is how packed it is with people of all ages. I’m looking around in awe of the entire place with the city skyline as the background, while Vincent pays the admission fee and skate rental. We walk together into the pavilion when what feels like a million kids run past us. I grab Vincent, trying not to get mowed down. He laughs as I cling to him for dear life.
They finally leave the vicinity and I shake my head. “Kids these days, huh?” He laughs harder, and I join him.
People sip hot chocolates and coffees while munching on churros and soft pretzels. Vincent asks me for my sneakers and I pull them off, handing them to him. He gives the rental guy my shoes, who quickly goes to the back and returns with skates in my size.
“What about yours?” I ask curiously as we walk away.
“I’ve got my own pair of hockey skates with me.” I finally notice that he’s got a black sports bag with him, and I roll my eyes.
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you were about to go pro with the NHL or something.”
“Hah! You think I’m that amazing, do you?”
“Nope. But you definitely think you are,” I quip, smiling.
“I’m not too bad, am I?” He gives me a sly grin and I try not to melt in a puddle on the floor.
“So, when did you learn to skate?” I ask, trying to get as much information out of him as possible.
“I used to take lessons when I was a kid. I showed a lot of promise, but I preferred football.” His eyes gleam.
“Really? That’s so cool.” My heart flutters. “So, how did the fighting start?”
“Well, martial arts has always been important to my father. It started out simply enough, we’d go together and learn. A bonding thing, I guess. But over time I got really good and started sparring with my coaches. They encouraged me to fight.” he shrugs.
“Your parents know about it?” I ask suspiciously. I simply can’t imagine any normal or decent parent encouraging their kid to brawl in the underground.
“My dad hates it,” he replies coolly, finishing with his skates.
I finish tying mine, but I’m unsure if I pulled my laces tight enough. Without a word, he drops down on one knee in front of me, tightening them. I smile, an idea taking shape in my head. “No, I will not marry you, Vincent,” I’m loud, garnering the attention of some people around us. He starts to snicker, shaking his head at me.
“Please, Eve,” he replies loudly. “You’re the most intelligent, kind, and beautiful woman on earth. Say yes! Don’t keep denying me!” I do my best not to die of embarrassment as more people turn toward us. I know I started it, but I didn’t think he’d continue. “How many times do I have to ask? Marry me! Be my wife! Be the mother of my children,” he pleads.
I huff, looking left and right and pressing my lips together in a firm line. “Fine. You’ve worn me down. I’ll do it.”
Some people cheer as he stands up, wrapping me into his arms. We rub our noses together in a cheesy but oh-so-sweet gesture, while my insides melt. I have to ask myself, who am I right now? Vincent brings out a side to me that I never knew existed.
When he finally pulls back, there’s an undeniable electrical current between us, and I can feel it down into my toes.
“I know I didn’t tell you we were coming here, and I didn’t want you to be cold.”
“You, b-brought this? For me?” My mouth literally drops open when I realize what he’s done.
“Yeah,” he replies easily, draping the scarf around my neck and tying it closed. Lifting each of my hands, he slides the gloves on one at a time. “There,” he says, looking into my eyes. “Just right.”
I’m totally struck dumb. Whatever he got me must be made from the softest material I’ve ever felt in my life. I turn over the tag from one glove and see it says 100% CASHMERE. Holy crap! I want to thank him, but I can barely muster the words.
“Uh, Vincent, I hope you kept the receipt—”
He lets out a chuckle. “Eve, it’s for you. Keep them.”
“No way. I can’t keep something like this…” I shake my head vehemently.
He looks at me with confusion on his face, as if he can’t imagine a girl saying no to a gift. “Look. I brought you here. I passed by Bloomingdales today and wanted to make sure you wouldn’t freeze. It’s my treat, okay? They’re yours.”
I wait a few moments, not sure what the protocol is for this. I can’t even imagine what this gift must have cost. “Okay,” I finally tell him, swallowing hard.
“Good. Now stay warm and try not to fall on your ass. Let me just put this in the back with your shoes.” He gestures to his bag and I watch him walk away. I already feel much warmer, and I vow to take the best possible care of my new accessories.
He comes back to me and we start to walk toward the rink. I find myself losing balance and luckily, he grabs my waist, letting me lean into him. It’s harder to stay steady on these skates than I originally thought.
When we finally get onto the ice, it’s nothing like I imagined it would be. For starters, I don’t feel graceful; I feel completely and utterly idiotic and clumsy. I try to move, but every time I slide my skates forward, I feel myself falling backward. Vincent takes hold of me as I cling to the wall for dear life.
“Okay, Tara Lipinski,” he tells me jokingly. “Just stop a moment.” I want to glare at him, but as I turn my head, my skates skid forward and backward again. I let out a huff as I grab the wall, realizing this is real life, not the fantasy. Little girls are gliding past me—twirling like swans—while I’m trying not to collapse to my death onto the cold and hard ice. Vincent keeps trying to stabilize me, but I can’t stop myself from moving.
“Stop moving, Eve!” he stresses. I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s doing his best not to laugh his ass off at me.
“I’m trying, Vincent. But it’s ice for God’s sake!” I’m irritated by this turn of events. I was supposed to be naturally amazing at this and instead, I’m a failure.
“Watch your mouth,” he whispers. “There are kids around.”
I huff and try to stop my legs from falling out underneath me. I look up when I see someone ahead of me wipe out, landing on his ass. “Oh shit, Vincent! Did you see that guy?” Vincent throws his huge arms around me, securing my body to his.
“Just focus on your breathing,” he tells me soothingly. I let myself follow his order, and before I know it, I feel myself calm. “There we go, Eve.”
Somehow, the breathing really does work. “Okay, I think I can stand now.”
Vincent gently lets go of me and I stand up tall, without hanging onto the wall. I hold myself like a statue while he moves behind me, carting me around the ice with complete grace. For a man so huge and strong, it’s amazing how he’s able to be so agile. After the fifth turn around the rink, I feel comfortable enough to lift my arms out to my sides. “I’m flying!” I yell, giggling, turning my head to glance at him. Have I ever been this happy in my life? I don’t think so.
After we’ve gone around the rink what seems like dozens of times, he pulls us back over to the side, turning my body to face him. I grab his waist, so I don’t collapse, and look up into his eyes. “Oh my God, Vincent! That was the best!”
“Well, I’ll give you an A for enthusiasm, that’s for sure.” The look on his face is all play.
I purse my lips. “Oh, come on! Once I got the hang of it—”
“The hang of it?” He squints his eyes and holds back a smile. “You mean, the hang of staying still while I carted your tiny ass around?”
“Yes! Exactly!” He pulls me into his hard stomach and I breathe him in, feeling his body move with a laugh. It just feels so undeniably right.
He pulls me back a bit, still holding me securely. “I brought us some food. Let’s go back inside.” He kisses the top of my head. Helping me off the ice, he pauses for a moment as I turn my face up to his again. His skin is warm from the exertion; eyes so dark and glassy they’re almost black. I’m not sure where his parents are from, but I’d bet his ancestry is something unique. I try to study each of his features, wondering what combination of ethnicity may have given him these incredible looks.
“You like to stare, huh? I hope you like what you see.” His smile stops my heart.
“I’m just wondering where your parents or grandparents are from.”
“My father is originally from Italy and my mother was Native American,” he easily replies.
Did he say, was? I would bring it up, but I don’t want to spoil the happiness we’ve got going on right now. “Oh my God,” I say out loud, smiling. “I can actually totally see that. The wideness of your cheekbones and the slight slant in your eyes. It’s like nothing else.”
He chuckles. “And what about you?”
“My mom is Russian. She tells me my father was from Brazil.”
“Mmm,” he says, nodding his head in understanding.
“What do you mean, ‘mmm?’” I ask.
“Just that you’re sexy as hell, that’s what.” I flush from his blunt compliment, immediately dropping my head. He’s so forward and confident, it’s disarming.
“Okay, my gold medalist. Let’s go inside.” He drapes his arm over my shoulders and I do my best not to lean on him as we walk. He abruptly stops, seemingly annoyed. “I’ve had enough of this wobbly walking. I’m afraid you’re gonna fall.”
“Well, what exactly do you want me to—” I’m cut off when he lifts me in the air and throws me over his massive shoulder. I want to protest, but I can’t stop laughing; all the blood rushes down into my head. We get inside and he places me down at a table in the back corner with a gentleness that’s completely at odds with his tough demeanor. I look around for a moment; our table is completely hidden behind a beam. Did he bring us here on purpose?
He unties my skates, pulling them off my feet. I feel instant relief as I wiggle my toes around in freedom. “Feels so good to take these off!” I exclaim.
Vincent pulls off his own skates. “It does, huh?” I nod my head in reply. I look down and notice how massive his feet are. I swallow hard, wondering if that old saying is true. Big feet, big…
“Let me take your skates up.” He picks them up off the floor, walking back to the rental desk. A few minutes later, he brings my shoes back along with his gym bag.
Unzipping his bag, he pulls out bottles of water, four huge sandwiches, and two colorful-looking salads along with napkins and plates. I’m looking at all the food with wide eyes. He gets up again and walks over to the snack counter, bringing us back two large cups filled with ice.
I sit on the edge of the table and watch while he finishes setting everything up. I’m not used to being taken care of like this. He opens up the sandwiches, each overstuffed with meat and vegetables and cut in half. I can’t wipe the grin off my face when I see all that he’s done.
“You’re
a perfectionist, huh?” He places the food on the table in perfect symmetry and with a neatness I’m shocked he possesses. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“The food here sucks, and I thought you’d like something else.” He smiles casually, as if bringing food this amazing is not a big deal. To me though, it’s everything. And it’s not just the food. It’s the thought. It’s everything. It’s him.
He looks down at me as something dark and filled with promise moves through his eyes. I swallow hard, the smile from moments ago wiped off my face. He’s looking at me so intensely that I feel my breath quickening.
He picks up a sandwich and hands it to me, breaking our heat. “You’ll like this,” he says gruffly. I close my eyes and take a bite.
“Mm, it’s delicious.” And I’m not bluffing. It may be the best sandwich I’ve ever had. I open my eyes to see him watching me intently, his gaze moving from my eyes down to my lips and back up again.
“It’s from Eataly.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there—” I want to continue, but stop myself. Not that he doesn’t already know, but girls like me don’t get to eat at fancy restaurants with even fancier chefs. I can’t stand the thought of him seeing me as lacking or even worse, pitying me. Thoughts about my poverty disappear though, as he continues to gaze at my mouth as I chew. I swallow my food as heat finds its way into my lower belly. He picks up his own sandwich and takes a gigantic bite.
For some time, we do nothing but eat and stare at each other. We’re quiet, but the silence is completely loaded. It’s weird how these things don’t take prior experience to understand; something inside me, on a basic and carnal level, knows what’s happening. Our eyes, full of energy, say everything.
My eyes: “God, you’re gorgeous. Sexy. Brilliant. I love this.”
Vincent’s eyes: “I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
Some of his hair is messy on his forehead and I put my sandwich down, leaning forward to brush it off to the side. His look softens and I wonder for a moment if he had a mom who took care of him—if she used to pack him lunch and make him breakfast and dinner, if she tucked him in bed at night, reading stories. Did Vincent have his parents’ bed to run to in the middle of the night if he ever had a bad dream? Even though he seems to have it all, something is telling me that his life may not be all roses. I want to ask him, but feel shy.