by Michelle Lee
"Well, I just thought since you were going to be there and Davis was going to be there, that you two could be there together."
"Um, no."
"Why not Kassidy? I saw the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you. I have a sense for these kinds of things."
No shit. What does she mean the way I looked at him?
"What do you mean the way I looked at him?"
"I mean, Miss Marshall, you were sort of swooning."
"Maybe you mistook my swooning for an upset stomach and my need to vomit."
"What?"
"Chloe the guy is obnoxious, rude and an asshole."
Did I just say that out loud? I did. Damn it!
"Maybe you got off on the wrong foot. No pun intended. But he really is great, Kassidy. Jason wouldn't be best friends with an asshole."
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, he's an asshole until he proves otherwise."
"What ever happened to not an asshole before proven guilty?" jokes Macy.
"Ha-ha, very funny."
"I thought it was," Macy giggles.
"Me, too," Chloe joins in.
And with that I give them both a look letting them know that the subject was closed. They take my cue and Chloe moves on.
Finally.
"Okay, so my bachelorette party is next Saturday, Macy is bringing Chad to the wedding and Kassidy you're bring this 'Jackson' as your date?" Chloe "finger-quotes" Jackson.
"No-finger quoting necessary. I have a date with Jackson for your wedding. Now, can we drop it?"
"Okay, okay fine, you're bringing Jackson."
Chloe goes on for about ten more minutes, although it seems like forever, about what specialty drink she wants at her bachelorette party. I am going let Macy take care of that one, since she has a way with the bartenders at After Dark anyway.
As I walk back to the courthouse, I realize I am going to have to ask Jackson to be my date. Something I really don't want to do. Jackson has sort of a crush on me, and I am afraid asking him will only give him the wrong idea. I am really going to need to think about how I am going to approach him with the matter. God, I hope he doesn't have plans, because I really, truly don't want Chloe to set me up with Davis, even though he is breathtakingly good looking, with his chiseled jaw, piercing green eyes and hair that I could really grab a hold on to when we.....
Kassidy, get a grip! Remember, asshole, asshole, asshole. He was a dick to you at the club and somewhat at the dance studio. Don't forget that.
Ryan “sexy hair guy and asshole” Davis is going to be the death of me.
***
Fuck. Fuckety. Fuck. Fuck. How in the hell am I going ask Jackson without it sounding like a "date" date? Shit, you're going muck this one up, Marshall.
Yep, you sure are. And when did we become a trucker, hmmmm? I think Davis is bringing out your wild and inhibited side, and quite frankly, I like it. It’s very refreshing from the uptight lawyer persona you have. Oh, and you could save yourself some agony if you just took Chloe’s advice and mine of course, and go to the wedding with Davis. You know you want to.
Are you done?
For now.
Great. I need to think and I can’t with your monologues bombarding my brain.
Sorry, carry on.
Thanks.
The sudden realization of what I had said at lunch the other day isn't sitting all too well with me. I had blurted out the first name I could think of…Jackson Remington. What was I thinking? Oh, I know, Chloe was about to set me up with, I can’t even say his name, as my date for her wedding and there is no way in hell that I am going to have him, the fucking asshole, as my date.
You know you can’t or won’t say his name because then you will have to acknowledge that he makes you all swoony.
Whatever.
Oh, you know it’s true.
Again, whatever.
Yes, I know I will have to dance with him for Chloe, but that is all I am willing to do for her as far as he is concerned. The way I look at him. What the hell is she talking about? Okay, he is unbelievably gorgeous, god-like even. But still, he has proven he is the typical immature, after only one thing guy, and I’m not into that. You’re not into being touched, being kissed, maybe stopping our dry spell? And you think you need to be in the crazy house because of me? Honey, denying what that man is, is admittance enough. Oh, shut the fuck up! Just because I have had a very erotic dream about him, and more than once I might add, doesn't mean that I am into him. Ha! I'm sure lots of girls that meet him have those dreams, who wouldn't? I mean really, he is beyond beautiful. Those green eyes, those plump kissable lips, that tousled hair that looks like he didn’t do anything to it but did, and those fingers—Gah, those fingers. I can only imagine what those fingers can do. Ohhhh, but no, you don’t have a thing for him, sorry my bad.
I suddenly feel a warm sensation grow in the pit of stomach, well up and consume all of me as memories of my "dream" flash in my mind.
Snap out of it, Kassidy.
I hear voices outside my office and recognize one of them as Jackson's.
Shit, okay, here we go.
"Hey, Jackson, can you come in here a minute?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Sure, what's up, Kassidy?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow, I usually don’t call him into my office.
He is sort of cute, but in that "I have a cute brother my friends will want to date" sort of way.
"Um yeah, I wanted to ask you something." The words come out hesitantly.
"Okay."
"Um, well, my friend Chloe is getting married soon, and I was wondering, as my friend, cause we're friends, right?"
"We're friends, Kassidy, sure," he says with a hint of disappointment.
"Well I don't have anyone to go with, so I was wondering if you wanted to go. It will have an open bar."
"Go with you to Chloe's wedding?"
"As friends, of course."
"Of course. Um, sure, why not."
"Really, thanks, Jackson. You don't know how much I appreciate this."
God, you have no idea how much.
"Do I have to rent a tux?"
"Unfortunately yes, it’s black tie only."
"When is it?"
"It's in two months, on the fifteenth."
"Let me check my calendar.” He pretends to thumb through a book. “Well, it happens that I am free, so sure, I'll go." His smile overtakes his entire face.
"Thanks again, Jackson."
And with that my phone rings. He gestures he'll get more details later. I nod and answer the phone with the greatest feeling of relief, as if I just dodged a bullet.
***
His hand slides down my back while his other hand cradles my neck. "God, you smell so good," he whispers as he draws in a deep breath. I moan like a porn star. His hand slowly cups my ass, and he gives a gentle squeeze. His lips move from mine, trace my jaw before reaching my neck where he gently bites and licks. I gasp at the sensation as it causes goose bumps to cover my entire body. I can feel the wetness build between my legs as I want him in me.
"I could just devour you," he groans in my ear. I arch my back, and his tongue flickers down my neck, past my collarbone, before settling on my pert nipple. The ache between my legs grows, and feels like I will explode at any moment. He looks up at me through his long lashes. "I'm gonna take you places tonight, Miss Marshall, you have only imagined." His mouth leaves my nipple, making its way down to my navel. I moan, wiggle and arch my back again in anticipation for where he is going to take me and for what he is going to do to me. "You may want to grab on to something, angel." And with that, his lips, tongue and mouth find my sweet spot between my thighs. I give out a whimper….
Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz!
I shoot up in bed, glistening with sweat, hearing "I Wanna Sex You Up" after the buzzing stops on my alarm clock.
Just perfect. Color Me Bad and the nineties. Great, another damn dream about him. What the hell? Why do I keep dreaming about thi
s asshole?
Oh, I don't know, maybe because he is insanely hot and you DO have a little thing for him.
Do I? There's no way—he's not…I mean there’s no way…I don’t…he’s not…what… what I usually go for?
Oh, you don't like extremely good looking guys who make you feel warm and tingly inside? But I think you do. You definitely do.
"No, no, no!" I scream, shaking the idea from my inner self. Now my neighbors are going to think I’m being attacked or I’m absolutely insane.
What is she thinking?
I am thinking the truth, that's what, even if you choose not to.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and head to the shower to get ready.
It is Sunday, which means dance lessons, which means him. He has a name you know? You could use it?
I’m ignoring you so there’s no use in talking to me today. I’m not going to acknowledge your crazy existence in my head from this point forward.
Sure, whatever you say, you are in charge after all.
Great, I think shaking my head. I let the warm steamy water cascade over me, trying to wash away the feeling from my dream. When it doesn't work, I take matters in my own hands, trying to finish the dream on my own. If I am going to dance with Davis, I need to get this dream out of me; otherwise, how will I be able to face him? And with that, the dream continues.
***
I reluctantly enter the dance studio only to find Chloe and Jason gracefully floating around the floor. They are truly beautiful together. I glance down at my watch, noting the time is exactly eleven and fucking sexy hair guy is late again. Asshole.
"Oh, Miss Kassidy, I'm so happy to see you," Ricardo flutters over, kissing me on both cheeks.
"Hi, Ricardo."
"Okay, where is Mr. Davis?" Ricardo asks, annoyed.
"Oh, he's running a little late. He will be here shortly," Chloe informs not only Ricardo but also me.
Oh, how nice, he called to say he would be late.
Ricardo dances with me while we wait for him to show up.
As Ricardo is twirling me around, I see him by the door, standing there leaning against the jam with that smirk on his face.
God, he looks amazing. Stop it, you fucking idiot.
"Ahh, Mr. Davis, you're here."
"Sorry, I'm late," he replies.
Sorry my ass--you probably did this on purpose.
Remember the "fresh start" Marshall.
Okay, okay.
Davis looks at me, puzzled.
"Nothing," I say shaking my head.
"Okay, my friends, Miss Chloe has come up with her special dance performance. The four of you will be dancing The Thriller," Ricardo informs, all excited.
"As in Michael Jackson, Thriller?" I ask.
"Yep, the very one." Chloe smirks.
She has watched Thirteen Going on Thirty one too many times.
"Okay so here is what we are going to do," Ricardo starts instructing. He turns on the music, and Michael Jackson is echoing throughout the entire studio. He first demonstrates the moves in sections. I think it is more for my uncoordinated benefit. Chloe, Jason and Davis seem to catch on pretty quickly, but of course, not my dumb ass, and I’ve seen that movie almost as much as Chloe. So Ricardo takes extra time and care with me before setting me loose on my own. A few times in our zombie march I step on him and smile. A few times it isn't on purpose. He smiles back and then rolls his eyes. That really annoys me, but he looks hot as hell when he does it. At one point my feet get tangled up, and I spin around falling right on Davis.
"Sorry, I'm extremely uncoordinated. I don't know what Chloe was thinking?" I say as I am lying on top of him, when I swear I feel his dick twitch on my leg. My yoga pants and his gym shorts aren’t much of a barrier.
No, I am imaging things, there’s nothing twitching. Right?
"No problem," he breathes, licking his lips and ever so slightly thrusts his pelvis against my leg. There’s that damn twitch again and it’s harder.
Oh my.
"Yea, right," I push myself off of him as my body protests.
God, he is beautiful. I could just throw myself back on top of him and lick and suck and kiss him from fucking head to fucking toe.
Finally coming around to my way of thinking.
Nope. No way. Get it together, Kassidy. Remember, he's an asshole. A charming, hot as all hell asshole, but still an asshole.
You keep telling yourself that.
I feel myself blush and beads of sweat are beginning to form on the back of my neck. I stumble getting up and thankfully, catch my balance before falling back on him.
Although, that wouldn't be so bad.
No, it certainly would be way more fun than standing upright doing this ridiculous dance.
Suddenly, the visions of my dream come to the forefront of my mind. My entire body breaks out into a mega hot sweat. My stomach flutters, my heart pounds, and the ache between my legs, is making itself known. I need friction. Like some serious friction. Right. Now. I could stumble into him again, land on him, and rub myself against him like a dog in heat.
Before my whorish self or inner self takes over, I recover from my lust induced hazed. "Um, I gotta go," the words fall quickly out of my mouth.
"Ummmm, okay, is everything all right?" he asks with concern.
Awww, he's concerned.
Stop it!
"Yeah, I just realized…I ummm… I'm meeting Jackson soon, and…and I need to get going."
Where the hell did that come from?
Don't worry, I know what I'm doing, my inner self informs me.
"Who's Jackson?"
"Jackson? Who’s Jackson? He's a…a friend, my, umm, date for the wedding. I gotta go. Tell Chloe I'll call her later."
That was very convincing.
Zip.
I quickly grab my stuff and head out the door as relief washes over me. Any more time with him and I probably would have jumped him and rubbed myself all over every inch of his hard, deliciously, muscular body; my loathing of him be damned.
What the hell is he doing to me? And why did I say I was meeting Jackson. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Wait, why do I care if I mentioned Jackson.
Oh, I don't know, maybe because you DO have a thing for him.
Doesn't matter. Move on, dumbass.
When I get to my apartment, I immediately turn on the stereo, grab a bottle of water from the fridge and basically chug it. Obviously, dancing with him left me quite thirsty. Among other things. Maybe if I chug this entire bottle I can drown my inner self. Not a chance. I continue to drink and as my breathing comes back to normal, I realize my place is a mess.
Shit, I really need to clean.
Since I’m not really meeting Jackson, now is a good as time as any. I haven’t had much time lately working not only days, but pulling all-nighters too. I strip off my yoga pants, they are too wet and extremely uncomfortable. As I peel them off, I swear I hear my legs sigh in relief. I throw them in the wash with a load I had started earlier but had never turned the water on. I have a thing about starting the wash and leaving. I always have visions of the washer going haywire while I am gone and coming home to a house full of soapsuds. And my luck being my luck, it could happen.
Music begins to fill the apartment and apparently it’s the '80's hour on my favorite station, when I hear the beginning of one of my favorite songs. I run over to the stereo, cranking it to ten, not caring what the neighbors think, and begin vacuuming. For some unknown reason cleaning soothes me, and this song puts me back in a good mood.
"Ohhh, ohh, we're halfway there, Ohh, ohh, living on a prayer," I sing at the top of my lungs, dancing with my vacuum cleaner in only my underwear and tank; trying desperately to cool down.
Oh, you’re hot for other reasons other than sweat and those stupid yoga pants.
Ignoring you.
You can try.
As I turn around, still singing my heart out and dancing with the vacuum cleaner I notice a figure out of the
corner of my eye. I’m about to scream when I realize it’s Davis standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a different kind of smirk on his face and his eyes are full of desire?
CHAPTER 5
Oh, my God!! What is he doing here, standing in my apartment? Shit, I'm in my fucking panties. Hope you're enjoying the show asshole, because this is the one and only time you'll see me like this. Mother fucking prick!
"What the hell are you doing here?" It’s all I can get out, as the anger rises from the pit of my stomach burning like acid.
"Ummmmm.” He suddenly looks like the fat kid who got caught stealing the entire cookie jar. His little smirk disappears, but that look is still in his eyes. Although now it’s mixed with fear.
Um, is all you can say, pervert? And you should be scared.
Much to my disappointment I walk over to the stereo and turn it off. I love Bon Jovi and you don't get to hear their old hits on the radio every day. And here I am turning it off because of the asshole standing in my doorway.
"Well? I asked you a question. What are you doing in my apartment?"
"Um, I knocked and knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me?" It comes out more like a question.
You knocked, uh huh? I’ve heard that one before. Well, not exactly that one, but close enough. Why the hell is he looking at me like that? Oh, because you're standing in a tank top and panties, stupid. Go cover up!
"Will you quit gawking and close your eyes or turn around. Or better yet, just leave!" My teeth are clenched so tight it feels as though my jaw will break any second.
As the words come out of my mouth I realize he looks sort of…crushed?
"Sorry, I'll turn around. I've got something for you from Ricardo," he says his tone apologetic.
Anger is good Kassidy, remember—asshole.
But he looks so sweet and…
Forget sweet and whatever else you're thinking, he's still an asshole! And being here uninvited, gawking at me, just proves it.
But…
But nothing. I’m gonna put some clothes on before he does I don’t know attack me or something like a deranged stalker lunatic.
Would that be so bad?
Hush!
As I shake off the conversation with my inner self. I’ve come to the realization that I am having these conversations more regularly since I ran into him. Thanks for that, asshole. I turn around and make my way quickly down the hall. I grab the first thing I find, my gray yoga pants and my favorite tattered sweatshirt. I make my way back to him, dressed more decently.
