Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  “Ouch.” Sherease winces. She recommends Figs in Cashew ‘Cream’ as the dessert. “No eggs or milk products, I promise.”

  Through dinner, Romeo and I talked about our lives the past five years, safe topics. I filled him in on my studies and how I had difficulty in anatomy class because of the corpse I had to dissect. He talked about the fun he had going to USC, Playboy magazine’s top-ranked party school. I was hearing everything for the first time, because after I ditched him at the prom, I cut off all contact, email, phone, text, and moved to Boston. The few times Choco mentioned Romeo, I threatened to cut her off too, so she wisely decided to strike his name from her vocabulary.

  Sherease returns with the dessert, and I know my time of reckoning is around the corner. While Romeo sips on black coffee, I suck on the figs, sensual, crunchy, sweet and dripping with flavor.

  “I love watching you eat that.” Romeo seems mesmerized by me as I roll the wrinkly globular fruit in the velvety cashew cream and lick it.

  “Try one.” I dip a fig into the cream and break it open.

  He moves toward me, and I place a piece in his mouth. His lips linger a moment on my fingers, and he takes my hand and holds it to his jaw. I can tell he’s becoming aroused. His eyes lose their hard edge, and he tugs his lip ring with his tongue and chews slowly.

  My mind clouds with lustful thoughts of spreading cashew cream all over his body and…

  “Shall we take the rest of them to go?” His voice is raspy and he’s giving me that let’s-go-to-bed stare.

  I can tell he no longer wants to ruin the mood with talk about our breakup. “Let me freshen up and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Chapter 9

  The thought of going out the back door of the restaurant and calling my sister teases me the entire time I reapply my makeup and tidy up my hair. Romeo is pure danger. My rational medical student self tells me I’m too emotionally fragile to jump into bed with him. I’m on the rebound. I’m still unsure of my future. I can’t afford to make more mistakes.

  My teenage self smears lip gloss and checks out my profile in the full length mirror. I do look sexy in the motorcycle outfit, my legs longer because of the thin pants and biker chick boots. I zip the form fitting jacket and turn around, admiring myself from all angles. Oh, yeah. Teeny bopper me is excited to see the scene we shot at the library today. In fact, she’s asking why I hadn’t tweeted about it yet.

  The little vixen me struts out of the ladies’ room, sure she’s giving every man from eighteen to eighty a hard-on. She winks at the maître d’ who nods and opens the door for her, then poses at the entrance, her hair waving in the breeze.

  The motorbike purrs and idles before me. Romeo hands me my helmet. “Get on.”

  “Yes, Caveman.” Maybe it’s the mai tai talking, but I almost ask if he’s taking me to his cave.

  We ride off in a whirlwind. He takes the curves fast, leaning into them and I’m stuck to him, as if we’re one body. I’ve always loved riding with him, trusted him completely. The road becomes curvier and we’re climbing higher. The lights of the city below alternatively flash and hide behind trees and houses as we take the turns fast. The houses look really expensive, and I wonder whether Tita Elena has moved here or if Romeo is renting something with class.

  When Romeo takes the final turn, I realize we’re not heading to his cave. Part of me is relieved, the adult medical student me.

  A large cross looms above us, surrounded by a parking lot and a set of steps leading to its base. Mt. Soledad Veterans Memorial, a peaceful place with a fascinating three-hundred-sixty degree view of San Diego, and site of continuous legal battles between supporters and opponents of the cross.

  Romeo cuts the engine. I hop off first while he holds the bike steady. The night sky is clear, and unlike most days I’ve been up here, the wind is calm. Even though there are a few other cars around and people taking pictures, the area feels private, probably because of the reverent silence surrounding the cross.

  We remove our helmets. He locks his to the bike, but I have to hold mine since he doesn’t have an extra lock. We climb the steps up to the base, which is protected by a metal fence.

  Romeo holds me around the waist and whispers, “When you’re up here, you must tell the truth.”

  “What makes you think I’d ever lie to you?”

  “You don’t lie. You just evade.” He kisses my forehead.

  Even though the view below us is breathtaking, the stream of red and white taillights and headlights flowing toward the flickering city beyond, I only have eyes for the man holding me. A man I no longer deserve. Five years ago, I ditched him. I left without saying ‘goodbye.’

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why you went away.”

  “If I tell you, would it change anything?”

  “Yes and no. I respected your wishes not to come after you. Did you ever wish I hadn’t?”

  The breeze picks up, whipping my hair around my face. “If I tell you my heart, promise it won’t change anything.”

  “It won’t change the past, and it won’t change how I feel about you.” He pushes my hair back and caresses my cheek. “Answer the question.”

  “I missed you every day for the first year.” I choke out my answer. “But I wanted to be a doctor more, and if we had eloped, I would never have gone as far as I had.”

  “Why did it have to be one or the other?” His voice quavers.

  Heaviness presses over my shoulders and drags my heart to the floor. “Now I have neither. I’m a failure.”

  “You’re not a failure.” He lifts my chin. “Thanks for telling me the truth. I would never have stopped you from becoming a doctor.”

  “But you wouldn’t have moved to Boston. You said I could transfer to USC or UCLA. I would have had to give up Harvard.”

  He lets go of me, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s nice knowing Harvard outranked me. You know I wasn’t smart enough to go there, or to MIT.”

  I didn’t tell him the whole truth. It wasn’t just Harvard, but a Harvard guy I met at Visitas, the weekend in April Harvard offers to admitted undergrads. Eric Shen was one of the tour guides. Handsome, charming, and very intellectual. Eric challenged me to aim higher, to aspire to greatness, and showed me his fun-loving, quirky humor. He escorted me to the sample classes, took me to the dining halls, and invited me to a private party at his parents’ mansion. True, we were supposed to be chaperoned at all times, but the girl assigned to me assured me I could do what I wanted as long as I was back for the shuttle to the airport. She faithfully watched my luggage, which I stowed in her room, and my escapade caused no harm. Eric did not seduce me or give me drinks or drugs. He didn’t even kiss me or touch me. But we talked all night and when he played his violin, my spirit soared and at that moment, I believed anything was possible, and that I, little Evie Sánchez, could become a surgeon.

  Now, I can’t even pass anatomy.

  I press on Romeo’s chest, not wanting to break the connection. “It’s not like that. I wasn’t ready to be your wife. I’m still not ready to marry.”

  “What about that man you’re living with?” Romeo’s voice is stiff, unyielding.

  Why does Romeo act as if he still has a hold on me? That I have to answer to him?

  “It’s over now.” I turn and walk a few steps, my face toward the wind.

  He caresses my shoulders from behind and rests his chin on the top of my head. “What are your plans?”

  A great hollowness opens within me, sucking my energy into its maw. “I don’t know. Take it a day at a time.”

  “That’s all any of us can do.”

  Chapter 10

  We glide down the mountain and get on the freeway. I assume Romeo’s taking me back to my parents’ home, but when he gets off the freeway and goes the opposite direction, I realize he has other plans. Since it’s virtually impossible to shout loud enough to be heard while riding, I relax and hold on. He tools around local roads going to
ward the ocean before pulling into an apartment complex. He parks the motorcycle in an underground garage.

  “Where are we?” I ask, although I can guess it’s his place. I remove my helmet and peel of the gloves.

  “The pad I’m renting while on location.” He takes my hand. “You can hear the ocean from the bedroom window.”

  Shivers dance over me. It’s obvious what he wants.

  “Shouldn’t I call my sister? Let her know where I am?” I unzip the pocket of my jacket to hunt for my phone.

  “Sure. Would you like me to take you home?” He presses the button for the elevator. “Last chance.”

  “No. I can stay a little longer. See what you’ve been up to. We’ve been talking about me all evening. Your turn.” My mouth is running ahead of my jumbled thoughts. Heat boils inside me and my pulse revs. Should I stay or go? I have to help at the restaurant tomorrow. My parents are probably worried. But my teenage self pouts and crosses her arms, stomping her foot, eager to taste and explore Romeo and all I’ve missed these five years.

  The elevator door opens and I step in, feeling like I’m about to embark on an adventure that can either end in pure delight or utter disaster. Considering how catastrophic the past few months have been, I figure a change is due.

  I send a short text to Choco telling her I’m at Romeo’s and won’t be coming in until late. Then I turn off my phone.

  Romeo is visibly relaxed by the time we pop into his apartment. It’s completely furnished, one of those corporate extended stay units complete with leather upholstery, framed art on the wall and modern kitchen appliances.

  “What will you have to drink?” He guides me toward a plush couch. “Make yourself at home.”

  “I’ve had enough drink tonight. I’m kind of hot though.” I fan myself, a snake of desire wrapping around my lower regions.

  Tonight, I’m going to take what I want, find out what I’ve been missing. Besides it’s not like hot, sexy Romeo’s a stranger.

  A sly grin crawls onto his face. “You’re direct, aren’t you? I like that.”

  He turns on the stereo. It plays a pulsing music full of sexual rhythm. The song, I believe, is “Inside My Love” due to the repeated lyrics describing where the female singer wants her lover. Slowly, I unzip my moto-jacket, aware of the effect I have on him. His gaze never leaves me as I shrug it to the floor, then roll my hips, my hands caressing my body to the rhythm of the music. I act out the lyrics, bending and arching my back, while I circle my boobs with my fingers, before slipping my hands under my stretchy top.

  Not too fast, I undulate to the drugged beat of the music, lifting the camisole over my shoulders and letting it drop like a fallen leaf. I dance up against him, the peaks of my breasts, still encased in my bra but visibly hard, rub against his open jacket. I tuck my palms in and up his shirt. He’s hot, damp, the muscles of his chest firm. I nip the edge of his jacket and tug with my teeth to pull it off him. He’s dancing with me, his erection against my belly. The leather is too confining. My breathing quickens, the heat rises, and the voices in the song keep calling what I’ve been wanting the minute I saw Romeo at Barrio XO.

  He grabs both sides of my face and draws me into a grinding kiss, hungry, expectant, and oh, so impatient. I grapple with his belt, and he deftly unhooks my bra. He’s familiar, yet a stranger. Bigger, stronger, and more aggressive. He grunts as I loosen his belt and stick my hands through the top of his waistband.

  “Not yet, cookie. Let me undress you first.”

  “Oh, no. Show’s not over.” I crank up the volume on the stereo. Another erotic song follows, mostly moaning, heavy breathing and spoken words.

  Running my hands up and down, I bounce and jiggle, and wiggle out of my pants. The legs catch on my boots. I lose my balance and fall onto the couch. Romeo scoops me up. “Bed?”

  “Yes, bed.” I hook my arms around his strong neck.

  The walk is short. We crash onto his bed. He rips my boots off and tugs my pants over my feet. My heartbeat is on overdrive, my entire torso and face flushed. When Romeo removes his shirt, I almost gush on the spot. His dark tan skin is smooth, his muscles rippled in perfect symmetry. Those slanted grooves on both sides of his abdominals beckon me to run my hands straight toward his groin.

  Romeo advances on me, a predatory look in his eyes, intent on devouring me. Almost crushing me, he rams his tongue into my mouth, ravaging my lips, his hands marauding my breasts.

  His hips grind between my legs, denim on my soaked panties.

  “How do you want it?” He practically growls when he tugs away from plundering my mouth.

  “Every way.” I’m barely coherent. All my erotic fantasies are about to be fulfilled. I’m greedy. I want everything.

  Rough hands squeeze my breasts and hips, and his sandpapery jaw scratches my shoulders. Pain mingles with chilling tingles and excitement sizzles in my arteries. I moan and arch, desperate for skin to skin contact. Romeo rolls one nipple into his mouth while massaging the other one. I let out a yelp of pleasure and clench my inner thighs around his hips, pushing in for more pressure.

  He dry humps me while playing with my breasts, zinging me with exquisite sensations.

  I never thought I was such a slut, in fact, I’ve always been reserved in bed. But before I can stop myself, I’m grabbing his hair and shoving his face down my belly. He drops off the bed and onto his knees, dragging me to the edge of the bed. Eyeing me with a smirk, he gives me an air kiss. And fuck! When he bites his lip, right over his shining lip ring and gives me that hot, sexy, I-know-what-you-want look? I’m about to pass out.

  He hooks his fingers under my panties and slides them off. “So fuckin’ wet, looking so tasty.”

  My eyes must be begging him, because he licks his lips exaggeratedly, then spreads my legs wide. Lifting my bottom with his palms under my ass, he hones in.

  Ah. Sheer bliss. Romeo’s tongue is soft, lazy, circling my clit without direct pressure. Skillful. As teens, we’d never been this far. He’d groped me in the car, awkward, fumbling, and kissed my breasts. But the unspoken rule was never below the belt. Now, I’m benefitting from the expertise he gained partying at USC. I cast thoughts of other women from my mind, focusing on the exquisite tongue lapping lazily between my legs. He alternates kissing and licking, running his tongue up one side, then down the other, knowing not to apply direct pressure on the most sensitive spot.

  Waves of pleasure mount then ebb, tortuous, seemingly endless. My cries and moans increase in pitch and I’m gripping the sheets, flailing my head back and forth. Romeo squeezes my butt and pinches the flesh between my legs. I didn’t know pain could throw me into a frenzied state, aching for a more focused sensation. He scrapes me with the metal of his lip ring while his tongue circles tighter, spiraling me higher and higher. I press myself against his lips, and grind into his face, seeking direct pressure. His tongue zeroes in on the center of my clit and throws me over the edge. My hips twitch involuntarily, sending shots of ecstasy throughout my body. While my vagina is still contracting, Romeo pushes his fingers in and draws another mind blowing orgasm.

  “I can’t take this.” I see stars and feel myself floating, stuck on a high. “Inside me, I want you inside.”

  He peels off his pants, yanks the drawer of his night table open and slips on a condom, then positions himself at my entrance. “This is our first time, cookie. Make it count.”

  I don’t know what I’ve been missing all these years. But one look at his cock and I almost faint. I knew he was large. I’d felt him up long ago, but stroking with my hand is a different proposition than having it inside me, invading and displacing my internal organs.

  He seems to read my mind because he circles himself gently, teasing, stretching me with the tip as if I were a virgin all over again. Still singing from the orgasms, my body is more than ready for him. I arch into him, and guide his hips down until he’s buried. It’s tight and a sharp jolt causes me to flinch when he hits my cervix. I press on my left
ovary to relieve the pressure.

  “I hurt you?” He pulls back, but I trap him with my legs.

  “A fine line between pleasure and pain.” I can barely breathe. “You’re so big. Fuck me hard, Romeo. I want to know what it’s like.”

  “I’ve been wanting you all my life.” His face scrunches and he showers kisses over my face, lips, and neck while his hips slam me hard and fast.

  There’s no way I can control my vocalizations. A sound like a hyena cackle punches from my throat on every down stroke. I’m losing my mind, crazy high, and overwhelmed, and when my orgasm pounds through me, I scream. It barrels over me like an out of control roller coaster cart. It breaks from the track, hangs in thrilling suspension for a sublime moment, then hurtles, spiraling off into a rainbow of sparkly tingly lights.

  Romeo’s eyes roll back and his mouth elongates. He’s looking like a guy falling off a giant drop zone. I clench around him as he thrusts harder and grunts, his breathing ragged. We hold each other, my arms and legs wrapped around him for several long minutes. And even before my orgasm fades, tears roll from my eyes as an intense feeling of being lost yanks sobs from my throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Romeo pops off me, his face etched with worry.

  “Nothing, except I screwed up badly. I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes roughly and turn onto my side, curled away from him. I don’t even know why I’m crying. My rational mind searches for an explanation. Post traumatic stress syndrome from the breakup with Eric. Or regret because I should never have left Romeo. All I know is that the black and white world I existed in for five years has exploded into a raucous, joyful, exhilarating and frightening mass of colors and sparks.

  “Romeo, I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling.” I sit partially and throw myself into his arms. “Except with you, I can be myself. I can be anything.”

  Chapter 11