In Control (The City Series)
Page 8
Porter looked from his father to me. “Kingsley, wanna hang out today?”
Once again, all eyes were on me, waiting for an answer. I had to stay away from my house for the rest of the day, so why was I apprehensive about agreeing to spend it with Porter? I didn’t have any money to do anything. I doubted he would find it entertaining to skip rocks in the river or play hopscotch on the streets, but Porter asked to spend the day with me. Me. How could I say no to that?
“Yes!” I finally answered a little too enthusiastically.
“Great,” Mr. Henning said. As he gathered his briefcase and jacket, he told Porter that he’d see him later that night. “It was nice meeting you, Kingsley.” Mr. Henning smiled at us and walked out of the cafe.
We were alone. I mean, there were other people in the shop, at least thirty others, but I couldn’t see anything past Porter. He was seated across from me, and I studied his mouth as he took a sip from his mug. Every time he took a drink, he’d lick his top lip.
“I was thinking we could go to a movie,” Porter suggested.
My smile dropped. “Porter, I don’t have much money with me,” I confessed.
“Well, that’s okay, because I still have my dad’s credit card.” He held up the silver card and grinned.
“I can’t let you pay for me—”
“I want to,” Porter interjected.
He hailed us a cab and told the driver which theater we were going to. The space in the backseat was big enough to fit at least four bodies, yet Porter sat in the very middle, next to me. Not so close that our bodies touched, but close enough that butterflies swarmed my stomach.
“I wanna see so many movies!” Porter was practically bouncing in his seat as he talked about the many movies that were playing. “I really wanna see The Chronicles of Narnia, but Iron Man just came out and that looks so good! Oh! I wanna see The Strangers, too. That looks really scary!”
This is what being my age should feel like. Porter made me see that being a kid meant being stress-free. It meant getting excited over the simple things in life and not having to worry about anything.
“Kingsley,” Porter said, waving his hand in front of my face, “you with me?”
“What? I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Porter laughed. “I just asked if any of those movies sounded good to you.”
“They all do,” I lied. I had no idea what any of the movies were about. I didn’t get to watch much TV, and when I did, it was always what the Hendersons had on. I didn’t care what movie we saw. I knew that the whole time it would be playing, I’d be discreetly staring at him.
The cab dropped us off in front of the theater and Porter followed me out onto the sidewalk. I looked up at the oversized sign atop the brick building. Even though it wasn’t lit up, I imagined how beautiful it could be. The bright neon lights would illuminate the sidewalk in blues, reds, and greens. Moviegoers would walk hand in hand up to the ticket booth, excitedly purchasing tickets for a film they’d been dying to see for months. I imagined the perfect moments that could be had at a movie theater, knowing that this was my first and more than likely last time here.
“C’mon!” Porter grabbed my hand and rushed through the doors.
The line wasn’t too long, but it allowed Porter more time to debate which movie he wanted to see more. He went back and forth between Iron Man and The Strangers, finally picking the scary movie. The only other scary movie I’d seen was Jeepers Creepers when I was living with my last foster mom. I could only watch thirty minutes of it before covering my eyes and pleading with her to turn it off.
“Want some popcorn? This place makes the best popcorn around,” Porter raved.
“No, it’s okay.” I did want some, though. The smell of the popcorn filled the entire theater, and without even eating it, I could taste the salty butter on my tongue.
“We’re getting some,” Porter declared, grabbing my hand again and rushing to the registers.
The theater was busy and only two seats were left near the front of the room. Porter complained that we wouldn’t be able to see anything since the screen would be so close, but I smiled anyway, hoping to convey the excitement I was feeling.
The armrest between us kept our bodies from touching. Each time Porter adjusted his position, though, his shoulder rubbed against mine. When the room went dark and the screen began playing the movie, my courage appeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him. He was stuffing his mouth with handfuls of popcorn, laughing at the previews. Traces of popcorn were left on his shirt and he made no move to wipe them off. I took a big, brave gulp and swept my hand against his chest.
“You had popcorn on you,” I explained when he looked over at me.
“Oh,” Porter smiled, “thanks.”
For two whole hours, I was able to stare at Porter to my heart’s content. When he laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down just like a yo-yo. His eyes widened when the music in each scene grew louder and louder. He bit his lip every time a loud scream echoed through the theater, and once he got so scared he clutched my arm until the scene was over.
I’d never thought I’d actually hope that a scary movie would play on repeat, but when the credits rolled and Porter stood from his seat, I was almost tempted to suggest we see it again.
“How many times per hour are you going to have to pee?” Wren complained.
“We’ve only stopped once since being on the road.”
“No, we’ve stopped twice,” he corrected. “Once when we were right down the street from your place and again an hour ago.”
“Fine, I’ll hold it. If I pee on your precious leather, though, you can’t get mad.”
Wren flipped on his blinker and turned onto the exit. I smiled out the window, happy that I’d won this round.
Over the past hour and a half, we’d listened to three Muse albums, argued over who was a better singer, Freddie Mercury or Robert Plant, and played Twenty Questions. I’d tried being sneaky and asked if he had any tattoos that spelled anything out, and what they meant, but Wren quickly shot that question down by turning up “Panic Station” and dramatically singing along.
“Fine. If you’re not going to play by the rules, I quit,” I whined.
“You already know I have a tattoo that spells out something. Don’t be so manipulative.”
“Manipulative!” I yelled. “You refuse to open up about it, and by default, that just makes me more curious.”
“I refuse to open up about something? Did you really just say that?” Wren’s agitation grew as I pushed the subject. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “You really want to go down that road, Kingsley?”
“This is stupid. We shouldn’t be arguing. Like you said, this is going to be a great vacation,” I said bitterly.
Wren pulled onto the shoulder of the highway abruptly. Once he stopped, he put his car in park and tore off his seatbelt. “Do you want to go back home?” he yelled. “Is this your way of getting out of this situation?”
I refused to look in his direction. My head was swimming with answers to his questions. Maybe this was my way of getting out of the situation—act like a total bitch and Wren will turn his car around. I kept my mouth closed and stared out the window, watching as the cars from the opposite side rushed past us.
“Kingsley, fucking look at me!” he roared.
“Can we just get back on the road? I have lots of fancy Hamptons people I’m dying to meet.”
The more I spoke, the heavier Wren’s breathing became. After a few painfully long seconds, I looked at him. His face was beet red as his stare sparked with anger.
“I’ll ask you one more time, and if you don’t give me a straight answer, I’ll decide for the both of us.”
“What’s the question again?” I goaded.
Wren shook his head. Back and forth, back and forth so many times I was beginning to get dizzy. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” he whispered, looking down at his lap.
“I’m sorry.” Two words that I haven’t spoken in years came out like I’d been planning to say them all along.
Wren looked up at me like he was unsure of what he just heard. He eyed me warily, as if I’d suddenly turned into an alien. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes! I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t just open up to you. I’m sorry I can’t spill my feelings like I’m a fucking open book!”
“K,” Wren took my hand and calming ran his thumb across my knuckles, “it’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I know you need more time to open up, but you have to understand that I don’t want to be the only one in this relationship spilling my guts.”
“I do understand. I just—” I pushed my palms into my forehead, trying to work through my feelings. “I just...I meant what I said. I’m gonna try, but don’t get shitty with me when I do it wrong.”
“Baby,” he grabbed back onto my hands and held onto them tightly, “we’re in this together, okay? We’ll work it out, no matter what.” He pushed his forehead to mine and gave me an encouraging smile.
I nodded, smiling back.
Typically, a time like this would call for make-up sex, but two bodies in a car the size of a Hot Wheels was impossible. I kissed Wren passionately, hoping all of my feelings would find their way into his heart. Since I wasn’t able to say the words I knew Wren longed to hear, I wanted him to feel them within my kiss.
It was still early in the morning, and since we didn’t have to arrive at his parents until that evening, Wren suggested we make a few pit stops along the way.
“I know you’re not a huge fan of shopping, but there are some antique furniture places in town that we should kill time in,” Wren suggested.
“Sounds enticing,” I replied bleakly.
Wren insisted, ignoring my every plea at not going to a furniture store that most likely smelled like feet and old man’s underwear. Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into a strip mall.
“This will be fun. Stop being such a baby,” Wren scolded.
I rolled my eyes in response, knowing that any sort of rebuttal would put a tear in the delicate lining of our relationship.
Over the next four hours, Wren dragged me into five different stores, the smelly antique one taking up one of those hours. I walked behind Wren, watching as he pretty much touched everything in the store. Oh, look at these glasses! This rug would look awesome in my living room, right? I should buy this candle for my mom, she loves the smell of roses. With each comment, I gave Wren my best deadpan stare, hoping he’d get the message that I was clearly not having any fun.
He either got my message loud and clear and continued to torture me by walking through four more aisles just for the fun of it or he was so enthralled with the antiques, he didn’t notice my very evident plea to leave.
“I’m starving, bored, and if I saw a Greyhound bus right about now, I might actually consider hopping on it,” I whined.
I almost got excited when Wren grabbed onto my wrist and walked out of the store, except that we were headed in the opposite direction of the car.
“It’s a good thing we’re nowhere near a bus station then,” Wren observed.
“Please!” I cried. “I can’t walk any further. My clothes already smell musty.”
Wren ignored me, pulling me into a store that could have been duped as a mini Ikea. I was tempted to lounge in a chair that looked like it was crafted haphazardly in the dark, but the moment I began sitting, Wren pulled me up.
“Seriously, please stop acting like a child,” he begged.
Thankfully, Wren didn’t want to see what they had in stock in their back room, so we were well on our way back to the car.
“I’ll take you to one of my favorite restaurants,” Wren said as he buckled his seatbelt.
“Perfect. I came very close to eating the plastic fruit displayed in the last furniture store we were in.”
Within a few minutes, we were seated at a table in a restaurant that looked more expensive than the shoes I was wearing. The people seated around us wore Rolex watches and diamonds so big they practically blinded me from across the room. I was surprised this was one of Wren’s favorite places since it wasn’t a hole in the wall whatsoever.
“This place does not seem like your style,” I said, my eyes darting around the room.
The tables were placed close together. The textured ceiling looked like a modern art piece. There was one wall covered in red wallpaper, adorned with pictures of cartoon zebras and arrows flying in every direction. Very odd.
“It’s definitely not my style, but the food is delicious.”
Over the next two hours, Wren and I gorged on more food than I’d eaten in the last week. Steamed mussels, chilled lobster, and braised short ribs so delicious I could’ve eaten them every day were only my top three dishes. By the time all of the plates were cleared from the table, I couldn’t ever imagine being hungry again.
“Told you the food is incredible,” Wren validated.
“Will you roll me out to your car?”
After Wren had paid and we walked outside, he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I declared, laughing uncomfortably as Wren ran across the parking lot.
“You asked for this!”
He gently placed me on the ground when we arrived at his car, leaning down and kissing the side of my cheek. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me; you were only snarky half the time.” He smiled and kissed my lips passionately, leaving my knees trembling, and I couldn’t help but smile.
By the time we neared his property, the sun had gone down and we were both full and exhausted. We’d never been in an enclosed space together for more than thirty minutes, unable to get out of each other’s faces if we were annoyed. Most of our conversations happened after we’d just had sex or were taking a shower together. Other than last night on the phone, this was the first time we truly communicated with our clothes on.
Wren drove his car up a driveway that had to be at least two miles. By the time we finally reached the ginormous house, I swore another thirty minutes had passed.
“It’s a shame you have to spend every summer in this shithole,” I joked, eyeing the massive brick home.
“You should see Jay and Samson’s places.” Wren was never one to boast about what his family owned. He was grounded thanks to that elephant tattooed on his back.
When we got out of the car, Wren immediately rushed to my side to assist me. The first few times he’d done it, I insisted on opening my own car doors, claiming my independence, but the more he refused to let me, the more I grew to like it.
“Such a gentleman,” I said, kissing his cheek.
“My mom taught me well.” He grasped my hand in his. “So, my parents aren’t here yet...” he trailed off with a salacious wink.
“Does that mean we can have sex in every room of the house? I’m pretty sure that would take at least a week to manage.”
Wren laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”
“The last time you said that, we ended up naked,” I joked, taking his fingers and entwining them with mine.
Wren ignored my witty response and instead began walking onto the warm sand, practically dragging me behind him.
We had been in the Hamptons for only five minutes, and already Wren was like a kid on Christmas morning. I suggested we unload our bags first, but he insisted we do that later. He was being very hush-hush about what he had planned, and my constant questioning only resulted in made up answers, my favorite being, “We’re going to steal from all the rich people and leave the scene as billionaires.”
“Will you just tell me what’s going on?” I asked, pulling on his arm to grab his attention. We’d been walking on the
beach for a few minutes, and still, Wren made no sign of stopping.
“No.”
“You’re an ass,” I muttered.
Finally, Wren stopped and stood in front of an abandoned blanket. He turned around, a childlike grin on his face.
“What?” I asked, a slight edge in my voice.
Wren shook his head back and forth, a smile remaining on his lips. “Sit down, Kingsley.”
I sat down and looked up at him. “Will you tell me now?”
Wren joined me on the blanket, kneeling directly in front of me. He leaned forward and whispered, “There’s something I want to do that I’ve never done before.”
The fire in his eyes turned up my body temperature. In a matter of seconds, we were both naked. Our bodies molded together, and suddenly I was on my back. The stars above us danced across the black sky, performing pirouettes for my eyes. Wren’s hands traveled the length of my body, leaving trails of heat along my skin. The heat seeped into my heart, filling it with a warmth I’d always longed to feel. His lips swept across my shoulder, covering my entire body in goosebumps.
“Touch me,” I begged.
Wren’s fingers found that deep, intimate place inside of me, stealing my breath. He pushed my knees farther apart, his eyes focused on mine. My eyebrows knitted together as his fingers pushed deeper, easily locating the spot that caused my entire body to tremble. My lips were moving, explicit words escaping my mouth as my throat became raw with the intensity of my orgasm.
I needed more. I needed Wren. Pulling him back on top of me, I wrapped my legs tightly around his torso. The blanket that was once perfectly laid out was now a mess beneath our bodies. The sand had found its way onto our skin and I felt it scrape across my arms.
“Do you want me?” Wren asked as he left a trail of kisses along my neck.
“Always,” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath.
For a moment, we looked into each other’s eyes. This was the one thing I’d never done before. I never allowed myself to see into a person’s soul. I was grateful for the light of the moon; it gave us the chance to truly look at one another.