Unspoken Promises

by Gabbie S. Duran

  I’m so lost in my fantasy that I barely make out Matt’s continuing lecture on the precautions I need to take when out in public. Sometimes it’s easier to have him at my side than to listen to him give me advice like a worried father.

  I cut him off by saying, “Matt, I have Julio with me. Remember?”

  He grows silent, but I can hear the defeat in his words. “I know. I just hate knowing I can’t be there,” he says, making me smile. “Needy much?” I throw back at him as I try to make him laugh.

  “We’ll see who’s needy tonight when she can’t sleep,” he says, reminding me of how badly I’ve depended him to help me sleep. “But really, Abigail,” his voice sounding serious again, “I don’t want you leaving Julio’s side.”

  “I won’t.”

  Seeing Julio already pulling up to the hotel, I end the call, promising to call Matt back as I’m getting ready for bed. The hours trickle by and as I’m staring into the screen of my phone reading an article online, Matt’s smile starts flashing back at me. Puzzled, I press on the screen to answer and the picture is transformed into a realistic smiling Matt looking back at me.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he huskily voices.

  “Hello, handsome. I forgot that we can Face Time on our phones,” I answer, a wide smile taking over my face.

  From the background and the position he’s in, I know he’s in our bed and I’m already regretting not being at his side. Within that second I grow lonely without him.

  “Thank God for technology. Do you miss me?” he taunts with his smile up to one side.

  “Of course I miss you,” I truthfully respond. “I wish you were here.” I add, my heart miserably sinking with disappointment.

  “Me, too,” he whispers. “Are you excited about tomorrow?”

  “A little, but I’m nervous too.”

  He looks surprised. “Why would you be nervous? You’re Abigail Adams, remember?” Matt teases. “And you never got nervous before a game?” I jeer back at him as I laugh.

  He laughs at my response, allowing me to take in his carefree expression although the dread of not sleeping at his side is growing with every second. It must show in my expression as his smile fades into a frown. “I wish I could kiss that frown from your lips,” he conveys barely above a whisper and I can already feel the regret of leaving him behind building inside of me. “Wanna have sex?” he suggest, shocking me.

  He’s laughing again, but I’m grimacing from his amusement. “And how do you expect to do that? Unless you have some super magical powers you haven’t disclosed to me, I truly doubt you can be here in a couple seconds to fulfill that promise.”

  “Phone sex,” he replies with a wag of his eyebrows.

  My once grimaced expression is followed with irritation. “Why do I have a feeling this isn’t the first time you’ve done it?” I irritably say back to him. His smile is now matching my own. “Past,” he reminds me through clenched teeth, now looking aggravated from my words.

  The single word leaves me feeling guilty for approaching the subject. Heavily sighing, he rakes his hand down his face before I see his eyes again. This time they look resentful.

  “Can we just talk instead? It may help calm my nerves so I can fall asleep,” I suggest.

  With a simple nod, he begins explaining his day and I lay listening to every word. It isn’t long before my body is relaxed enough and it helps soothe my nervous mind, allowing me to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

  “WHAT IS THAT on your foot?” a skinny looking man walking in my direction demands to know. Reaching me faster than I can him, he gawks down at my boot without bothering to conceal his disgusted expression.

  “A boot brace,” I curtly reply.

  “And how do you expect me to photograph you with that hideous contraption on your foot?” he asks, his nose disgustedly scrunched up. “The designer is not going to be happy with this,” he huffs out while rubbing at his temple.

  I sigh as my eyes roll at his words. “It’s not permanently attached to my foot. It does come off,” I snarl back. His head snaps up, clearly irritated with my response. “As long as I don’t put any pressure on my foot for too long, I should be fine,” I finish explaining to him.

  His eyes narrow at me as he studies me from head to toe. “You’re lucky most of the time you’ll be laying down,” he mutters as he turns to walk away, leaving me to wonder what he means.

  I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when a girl in her early twenties comes straight up to me. “I’m your production assistant for today, Ms. Adams. You can follow me this way,” she announces as she tilts her head for me to follow her. I was already irritated from the lack of sleep I had from tossing and turning and the both of them are unraveling my temper as they act like asshats. Isn’t it usually the other way around in this industry?

  Leading Julio and I to a dressing room, I enter to find another girl already inside. The moment she hears me walk in she turns to greet me, already instructing me to take a seat in a director’s chair. For the next hour, I’m primped and prepped to her satisfaction while I attempt to catch up on my sleep.

  “Okay, Ms. Adams, here are your choices for today’s wardrobe,” the same girl from earlier announces as she enters the room. Since the make-up girl is still applying my eye shadow, I reply, “Thank you,” without opening my eyes. When I feel the brush leave my eyelids, I open them and look straight behind me, my freshly make-up covered eyes going wide in shock from the lack of clothing.

  She didn’t bring in clothes. She brought in scraps! To be more accurate, she brought in lingerie. “There’s more, right?” I hesitantly ask, already afraid she will tell me no.

  Looking at me confused, she says, “What do you mean?”

  “Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, still shocked.

  “Ms. Adams, you were aware you were doing a lingerie shoot today, weren’t you?”

  Shit! I really should have asked for more details before I had agreed to this. Shaking my head to answer, I continue staring at the scraps on the hangers with wide eyes. Both the girls laugh, but when I don’t join them they realize their mistake and bring themselves under control. “I’m sorry. I thought you were informed by the agency,” the wardrobe assistant apologizes.

  Although she’s apologized, she doesn’t look regretful as she stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Gradually making my way over to the rack, I start to push the hangers aside, one by one. The garments are pretty, but don’t look like they would cover much of anything on my body.

  “We didn’t think you’d have a problem with it since you’re known for your lingerie shoots,” the wardrobe assistant’s words reminding me of a past I’m unfamiliar with.

  Shooting her with a vicious glare to shut her up, I make her cringe. Taking a deep breath and one last glance at the wardrobe, I find the courage to answer. “Okay, let’s do this,” I say, hoping I look much more confident than I feel.

  With a satisfied smile she helps me strip down to put on the first outfit, soon wrapping me in a silk robe so we can exit the dressing room. With Julio following me, I walk over to the set already beaming with bright white lights and umbrellas.

  Stopping to stand next to the photographer to await instructions, he doesn’t bother looking at me as he says, “The first round will be with you standing, so I need you to remove that hideous thing.” Using his nose to point at my boot.

  If he keeps up with his horrendous attitude, I’m going to end up using the boot to knock him out. I take my time removing the boot to irritate him before I hand it over to the production assistant. As I’m about to take my first step, Julio is already at my injured side helping me walk over to the center of the set. “Remember, if it begins to hurt say something. The last thing I need is Mateo chewing my ass out because of your foot,” he says, making me quietly laugh picturing his words. He leaves me, not waiting for a response.

  With a few quick instructions, I’m soon entering the zone I’ve come to love. Thirty minutes later as
we’re taking a quick break so the photographer can switch lenses, I’m flinching and can no longer bear putting any more weight on my foot. “How much longer?” I ask as another jolt travels up my foot as I place it down.

  “We’ll be done when I say we’re done,” he says, looking down at his lens.

  Hating the tone he’s just used, I signal Julio over with my fingers while demanding for my robe. Within seconds I receive both, along with a high pitched screech of words. “What is he doing?” I hear the photographer say as I’m covering myself up and asking Julio to carry me back to the dressing room. “I’m taking a break. If you don’t like it, fire me,” I snarl back at him.

  I don’t bother looking back for his reaction. “I’ll bring you some ice for the ankle,” Julio tells me as he places me in the chair I was in earlier. Minutes later he’s back with a bag full of ice and I’m silently cursing to myself through the pain. Grabbing my phone, I cannot resist texting Matt.

  I hate it when you’re right. – Abigail. Remembering how Matt would always lecture me that I should never stand on my foot without the boot for too long or else it would cause me pain. Within seconds I receive a response.

  As much as I love the message, why do I have a feeling I won’t be happy for you admitting it? – Matt

  Because you won’t. I reply before adding in the next message.

  They required me to take it off for the shoot. I’m taking a break and icing it now. – Abigail.

  With the guilt slowly building inside of me, I wait for his response.

  I’ll make sure to massage it when you get home. I love you. – Matt

  The words make me smile and leave me relieved he didn’t lecture me through a text message. I expect him to call me for said lecture, but when I look down at my phone to check the time, I realize he’s in the middle of class, leaving me relieved yet again. Twenty minutes later, I’m putting the boot back on and changing once more into another skimpy outfit. Hobbling my way back out for round two, I’m surprised to see a bed has now been added to the set. With every step closer I get to it, I grow nervous, even more so when I see a guy also in a robe conversing with the photographer. I can already sense the type of photo shoot that will take place in this session.

  Spotting me, a smile spreads across his face as he walks over to greet me. “Hi, I’m Kaden. I’ll be your partner for today,” he states with a little too much enthusiasm. “Hi, nice to meet you,” I shyly reply, unable to resist fully taking him in.

  The photographer is already barking orders on what he expects, and from his instructions, I’m already dreading what is to come. The uncertainly in the pit of my stomach is increasing as he adds the positions he needs. My mind is telling me this is not going to go well, but I force myself to push it aside and nod at his instructions, telling myself this is a job, nothing more.

  Done barking his instructions, the photographer walks back to his camera equipment as I hear Julio express, “I don’t like him,” he clips out. “Me either,” I add.

  Both of us laughing, I leave him there as I walk my way over to the bed where the photographer and Kaden are already waiting for me. Still repeating my earlier mantra as I sit and remove my boot, I’m soon removing the robe again and lying back onto the bed to make myself comfortable. It’s when Kaden climbs above me that my breath hitches. It’s what the photographer wanted and I should be prepared for him, but somehow it feels wrong.

  It’s not Matt, I know it isn’t him, and it feels wrong. Ignoring the guilt ridden voice in my head, I focus on the clicking of the photographer’s camera as I lose myself to my zone again.

  “Now kiss her!” I hear from my side as Kaden’s lips come down to me. I turn my face to avoid his mouth. “No!” I shout, earning me two sets of groans. “I never agreed to that,” I let out, now glaring at a disappointed photographer staring back at me. Ignoring him, I shove Kaden up to put some distance between us.

  “Fine. But I need sexy. So figure out how you’re going to make it happen,” the photographer snarls at me. With my blood already boiling, I angrily look up at Kaden who is now looking as if he’s won. “No kissing on the mouth,” I tell him.

  With his lips curving up into a smile he answers, “Sure.” His lips begin to place kisses along my neck. My traitorous body is already reacting by arching my back and lifting my head back to give him more access as Kaden’s hands roam down my body. The feel of his hand gliding down my bare leg is unfamiliar, but rouses the same desire. I know it’s not Matt, but sinfully I’m just as aroused as if it were.

  I close my eyes attempting to push aside the desire building inside of me, but it’s impossible as a vision of Matt surfaces. With the image of him in my mind and the feeling of Kaden’s hands freely moving up and down my skin, my body is soon stirring to life and I’m unwillingly reacting to him. I open my eyes hoping it will help deter the two, but even with the brightened lights, I’m unable to disguise the longing to have sex that is rapidly building inside of me. Soon enough, salvation is brought to me when I’m required to do a wardrobe change, but when I return it soon starts all over again as the photographer continues demanding the same similar scenario. Four hours later, I catch myself feeling the familiar ache in between my legs as I react to Kaden’s touch. My lip is chewed raw from the many times I bit down on it to stifle my moans. The yelling of the photographer calling it a wrap snaps me back to reality, shame now replacing my pent up desire.

  Without lifting himself off me he whispers into my ear. “What do you say we finish this somewhere else?” he asks before placing a kiss below my ear as Matt usually does. It’s the bucket of cold water I need to remind me of who’s really whispering in my ear.

  Shoving him off of me, I’m already yelling for them to bring me my robe and boot. “In your dreams!” I shout as I walk away, not bothering to look back. Reaching my dressing room, the smell of Kaden’s cologne is overpowering my body and the feel of his lips are still on me. I’m shivering from shamelessly knowing how I reacted to him. I just want to get home to Matt and forever push Kaden from my mind.

  MY PHONE VIBRATES on my desk, making me pick it up to look at the screen. It’s another text message from Abigail.

  I’m almost home <3 – Abigail

  With my lips going up into a smile, I reply.

  I can’t wait. Love you, beautiful. – Matt

  I love you more - Abigail

  I read the message and my smile grows wider. She’s been texting me all day. They began in the morning when she awoke and have been randomly coming throughout the day, but today I have gotten more “I love you” out of her than normal, worrying me something was wrong. The text I was looking forward to all day announcing she was on her way home pushed all the worry aside. Normally she wouldn’t text me this much during class, but I don’t care this time. I’ve missed her and she’s more important than having to hear an old instructor lecture away to a class that is barely half awake.

  My excitement builds knowing she’s almost home. She hasn’t been gone a full twenty-four hours, yet it feels as if I haven’t seen her in days. Even our conversation on the phone didn’t feel the same. I’d much rather have her at my side. Thirty minutes later I’m rushing out of class, practically jogging to my car and pulling up into the driveway another twenty torturous minutes later.

  Without hesitation, I rush into the house, already searching for her. “Hey,” I tell her as I spot her entering the living room with an excited smile on both our faces as I rush to her. Picking her up so I can hold her close, she wraps her legs around my waist and I can already smell the scent of her lavender body wash. “You took a shower without me,” I playfully scold to her before I kiss her lips.

  She responds by moaning into my mouth as she tightens her arms and legs around my body. I ignore the pain of the boot kneading into my back because it’s worth it to have Abigail in my arms. She continues to kiss me while I start walking us towards the bedroom to make up for our time apart.

  “Wow. Miss me much,”
I tease her when we end our kiss, panting for air. She nods her head before diving in for another kiss and grinding herself into my hips. I don’t need any further invitation to know what she wants and I’m happy to abide to her request. Gently tossing her onto the bed, I hear her giggle before she reaches up to pull me down above her, urgently pulling my shirt off. Within minutes we’re both naked and I’m inside her. The sound of her satisfied moan as I enter her is happiness to my ears. The sex is fast, but just as satisfying as I bring us both to our peak.

  Panting, I pull myself from her body to lie at her side, tucking her into my side. We lay there in silence, but from the way Abigail is tightly holding onto me, I grow worried something is wrong. “Tell me what’s wrong?” I ask her.

  “Why would you think something is wrong,” she whispers. “I just really missed you,” she whimpers out, a tear already falling from the corner of her eye.

  I can tell from the way she said the words she’s disguising her true answer. “Beautiful, tell me the truth. What happened in Seattle?”

  “Nothing,” she whispers, reaching up to give me another kiss. “Tell me the truth,” I softly demand.

  As I wait for an answer, a thought comes to mine. “Did you run into Bill? Because if he came near you, I’ll kill him!” I say, already leaning up on my elbow to look down at her.

  “No,” she squeals. “I just missed you, I swear,” she says, trying to calm me with her hand stroking my face.

  My heart had dropped to the pit of my stomach with fear that she would encountered Bill. Although she’s reassuring me she just missed me, the saddened expression is telling me there’s more. She looks heart broken and my worry has returned. “Are you sure that’s all?” I request again as I tuck her hair behind her ear.

  Instead of speaking, she nods her head. “Okay, beautiful,” I reply, kissing her nose. “Why don’t you tell me about the shoot,” I say with a smile, but her reaction is far from my happy one. I watch as her breath hitches and her eyes go wide. “Abigail,” I demand.