Her

by Portia Moore

  “Hi,” I say quietly, with a smile that comes naturally upon seeing him. His eyes light up when he sees me, his body instantly perking up. Those sparkling blue orbs make me feel like everything will be okay.

  “I thought I lost you for a minute.” He stands quickly in order to pull out my chair, and it makes me smile. I sit down and let out a breath. I’m not a pretender or a liar and if I don’t tell him now, even if it goes over bad, it has to be said because I’ll mess this up.

  “I just kind of want to put it out here,” I say, taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair.

  “I don’t come from the best family…or even a family, to be honest. I’m at Purdue on a scholarship. I’ve never traveled and don’t think I could afford to until who knows when. I stay in a crappy little apartment but it’s mine and it’s clean and relatively safe. It’s hard for me to open up to people because every time I have, I disappoint them or they disappoint me and it’s been easier to be alone and I’m okay with that, but for some insane reason I said yes to coming out with you and I’m here and I hate that I’m ruining what should have been a perfect date because you’ve made it perfect. And you seem pretty perfect, but my imperfections are too long to list and if you just want to get up and leave, I get it. I won’t hold it against you and when we see each other in school I’ll turn and walk the other way.”

  I let out a sigh when I’m done. I’m afraid to meet his eyes because I must sound like a lunatic and the warm hopeful smile he gives me makes me want to be the normal girl he should be on this date with.

  “My dad and sister will let you know I’m not perfect.” He says this with a flawless smile. “I don’t care about your family or where you’ve been. I want to know you, whatever that entails, and maybe along the way you’ll figure out you want to know me too.” His words are so comforting as he slides his hand across and encapsulates mine in his. My heart dances, but fear creeps around the comfort. Comfort is new. Dread, panic, anxiety—those are what I’ve been comfortable with around men. Not this. This is something different and it’s scarier than anything I’ve ever felt before.

  “How can I say no that,” I tell him, and his brilliant smile widens.

  “Tell me about Paris…”

  Over brunch he tells me about Paris, Italy, and Germany and I’m in awe how someone has been to so many places I’ve only ever dreamed of, that I haven’t thought it was possible of going to until I was in my fifties, if I was lucky. He’s a wonderful storyteller and stops me several times to make sure he’s not boring me. But I’m in awe of his life, of him, how he’s unintentionally humble and organically sweet. I notice the way his eyes light up when he’s excited, how long and curly his lashes are, and the way his toned arms flex in his polo, how it looks mature and effortless on him. There’s an easiness to him that has to come from having a life he never had to fight for and it’s refreshing to be in his presence, and I try to soak it up.

  By the time we’ve finished eating he’s told me of all his travels (well, the ones to Europe) and we say goodbye to Ms. Chereaux. She gives him a big warm hug and I’m surprised when she gives me the same. As we leave I turn back to look at her and she winks at me with a huge grin on her face. Kameron open the door for me and I thank him, still having to get used to it. Most of my foster brothers who weren’t pervs were barely nice, let alone chivalrous.

  “You mind taking a walk? It’s beautiful out,” he says, and I nod my head. There’s the perfect warm breeze, the street is lined with shops and other things you’d find in a small downtown area. We walk close and I stick my hands in my jean pockets, and realize he probably wanted to hold my hand but I leave them in my pockets.

  “So full scholarship, that’s amazing.”

  “It probably helped that I was a foster kid,” I say dismissively.

  “Still, you’re the first person I’ve met with an accomplishment like that. Beautiful and a genius,” he says playfully.

  “Far from a genius,” I tell him with a laugh.

  “And modest,” he adds, with a lopsided grin that gives me goosebumps.

  “Your ex, you mentioned her before.” He gives me an uneasy laugh and it makes me stop and smile at him.

  “I think she thought I was a certain kind of person and I thought she was too. We were both wrong.” He shrugs.

  “Do you miss her?” I ask. The sun is making his blue eyes seem even more brilliant.

  “I miss who I thought she was,” he admits honestly.

  You’re not who he thinks you are either.

  I nod and start walking again, but I don’t know what it’s like to miss someone. I guess that’s an upside to being alone

  “What about you, what ex is regretting whatever he did to lose you?” he asks. I let out a small breath and hug myself.

  “There isn’t an ex,” I say hesitantly. He looks at me with surprise.

  “That’s impossible!” he laughs, but when I give him a serious look his brows furrow in confusion. I rub the back of my neck and try to think of the right words to say.

  “Um, my priorities have been to be independent, get my degree and a good paying job, and if I’m lucky, start a not for profit focusing on teens in foster care. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that,” I tell him honestly. I expect him to look bored but he looks impressed and that makes me blush again.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like being in foster care?”

  I’m surprised by his question. I exhale slowly.

  “You don’t have to talk about if it if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s okay, it’s my life. I’ll say that it wasn’t easy and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But aside from that, it’s just not having a connection to anyone or your past, your bloodline…it’s almost worse.”

  “Do you know what happened to your parents?” I start to chew on my bottom lip.

  “I wish, but I don’t know anything because I went into the system when I was four. I have no idea who my parents are or why I ended up there. It made it especially hard because while most of the other kids knew being with their parents permanently wouldn’t happen, there was always hope, a thread they could be attached to whether they wanted it or not. I didn’t have a thread.”

  I realize I sound like I’m feeling sorry for myself, and there’s nothing for me to be sorry about. I know people with worse stories who aren’t where I am and I’m grateful, and what I also realize is Kameron is really easy to talk to.

  “I’m sorry I’m killing the mood.” He stops mid-step and I turn to look at him. He steps towards me and for the first time his face is serious.

  “You’re not killing the mood. I want to get to know you. The past is who you are, and for you to be here, I think you’re incredible.”

  His words catch my breath, not because I’ve never been told anything like that by anyone in my entire life, but as I search his face for a hint of insincerity, I find none. The wind blows between us and we’re close. He takes another step forward and my feet are planted on the ground and I can’t move. Besides, if I could move there’d be nowhere I want to go other than here.

  Our eyes are locked on one another. He looks at me, as if for permission, and I silently give it to him. I stop breathing as he leans down and his soft lips press against mine and everything stops—time, my anxiety, my fear. His lips touching mine calms all of it. For the first time ever I only feel what I can describe as peace. I understand why girls cry over boys they lose, why on shows I’ve seen everyone go crazy. It’s a first kiss, a voluntary one, one that makes butterflies and warmth spread through my body, as his lips part mine and his hands find the small of my back…and for a moment I feel normal. Right now I’m just a girl with a boy who is being carried away, floating by the promise of what could be one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, and I’m terrified I’ll never experience anything like it again.

  Ian

  For the first time in my life I haven’t been able to get a girl
out of my head, and she’s standing me up. She texted after four days. I couldn’t text her since she’s so secretive about her number. Then she asks me to pick the place and meet her at six, and not to be late.

  It’s 7:15 and I’m on my second beer, the sweat on the glass spreading over my fingertips. The bartender smiles at me. She’s cute, has nice tits, a small waist, and short brown hair. She’s been flirting with me since I sat down. The tag on her shirt says Teresa, and she’s pretty, normal, and like a hundred other girls I’ve slept with. A few I dated, and only one other one got close enough to me to have a serious relationship with.

  That shit went really bad, I was young and couldn’t keep it in my pants. Now I’m not so young. Twenty-six is creeping towards the old dude in the bar side of the spectrum. My mom says to pick one and get her some grandkids but make sure she’s worth it. My mom’s blunt and to the point, kind of like me. After years of teaching inner city kids, she has a tough, no shit demeanor, but has a heart of gold. I wonder if this one standing me up has a heart made of ice.

  “Your girlfriend running late?” Teresa asks, her tone a distinctive purr. I feel heat creep up my neck and give her a small laugh.

  “More like being stood up,” I attempt to flirt back, but my thoughts are all on Alana walking through that door, bringing hell with her. Teresa leans across the bar, giving me an ample view of her tits; they’re huge and I’m pretty sure they’re real.

  “Well, if she keeps you waiting any longer then I might just have to keep you company tonight.” She gives me a seductive smile before heading to the other side of the bar. The younger me would be all over that but I’m on edge and irritated. Why the hell would she tell me to come here if she wasn’t going to? She is fucking nuts though.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Sure she’s hot, damn near an inferno, interesting, a mystery wrapped in skintight jeans…but sometimes you have to know when to cut your losses. I push myself out of my seat, chug down the rest of my beer, and put a $20 bill down for my drinks and Teresa’s tip. I’ll go and smoke a blunt and come back later tonight to see if Teresa’s tits are the real deal. I check my phone one more time to see if she’s texted or called but I know she hasn’t since I checked my phone only two minutes ago. I head out of the bar and over to my car when I hear her voice.

  “Giving up on me already?”

  I fight the smile that’s breaking out on my face. I turn towards her, attempting to harden my stare, but the moment I lay my eyes on her it’s useless. Her midnight black hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, giving me full view of her flawless face. She’s not wearing any makeup aside from maybe some mascara and she’s still fucking stunning. She has on a white t-shirt that’s clinging to her, hugging her breasts for dear life, and a pair of low cut jeans that might as well be painted on. No come fuck me heels but she doesn’t need them for me to want to do that; a plain black pair of tennis shoes are all that’s on her feet. She’s dressed so different from the last time I saw her and I don’t know how it’s possible that she’s even sexier in this ensemble.

  “You told me to meet you here an hour ago.” I frown at her and she saunters towards me, looking innocent and seductively smirking.

  Damn, she’s got me. She stands on her tiptoes, bringing her mouth to my ear.

  “Good things come to those who wait,” she purrs. I take in the smell of her perfume. It’s rich and fruity, and I want to kiss her neck, mark it, and let anyone near her know she’s claimed, but I know better than that with this one. She lightly touches my chest, pushing me away as if reading my mind, before sauntering to a white drop top Mercedes on the corner.

  “What are you waiting on?” she asks as she pops the lock on the car.

  “There is no way in hell I’m riding with you driving. I’ll drive,” I tell her, folding my arms across my chest.

  She pouts her full pink lips at me before biting the bottom one.

  “I promise you, it’ll be fun,” she replies with a teasing grin. I walk over to the driver’s side where she’s slid in.

  “I asked you on the date so I get to dictate where we’re going, sweetheart.” I lean down so we’re face-to-face, only inches apart. I see the slightest tinge of color on her neck. I open her car door and gesture for her to get out. She looks up at me with squinted eyes.

  “But I ride stick really well,” she whispers with a suggestive grin, stretching her arms above her head and revealing her flat stomach. I laugh it off and let out a deep breath. I bend down, put my hands on her waist, and lift her out of her seat. She leans back so she’s facing me, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Remember our conversation about boundaries?” she whispers with a playful smile. I immediately throw my hands up in innocence. She laughs before walking over to the passenger side of the car, and my balls relax. I slide into the soft leather seat.

  “This is a bad ass car,” I admitted.

  “Maybe I’ll keep it.” She puts her seat back and plops her feet on the dashboard. She turns towards me only slightly before sliding a black pair of glasses on her face.

  “You look much better driving it than the guy who owns it.”

  “This isn’t your car either?” I let out a sigh, only mildly surprised.

  “How would it be my car? I don’t live here,” she says, as if it’s obvious.

  “Stole this one like the first one?” I ask her, trying to conceal my frustration.

  “I don’t steal—I borrow, Dad,” she says sarcastically.

  “Look this is Chicago, if you steal someone’s car here they’re not just going to give you a slap on the wrist; you’re going to jail—Cook County jail—and trust me, it’s a crap hole.”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh.

  “I told you I borrowed it, it will be back before he even notices,” she says dryly. I ignore the flinch in my chest and wonder who the hell she “borrowed” it from, and if I’m jealous about it. Since when do I get jealous? Especially over a girl I’ve never even kissed yet.

  “You are really killing the vibe we were having.” She glares.

  “Vibe?” I laugh. “Well the thought of you getting arrested sort of did that for me.”

  “You know, you look a lot more fun than you are.”

  “What?” I laugh again.

  “I mean, you’re wrapped in muscle and tattoos, this sexy long blond hair just reads you have a ‘fuck it’ attitude, and you sort of don’t. Actually, this was a bad idea,” she says with a bored sigh.

  I look over at her leaning back in the seat, her face turned toward mine.

  “You want to see my fuck it attitude?”

  I laugh, looking up at the sky. I turn towards her and pull the glasses off her face. She looks at me, about to protest, but I grab her face and bring her lips to mine. The moment they touch, the air becomes electric. I expect her to push me away but she goes limp for just a second. I take advantage, snaking my arms around her waist and pulling her closer to me before pulling her tongue into my mouth. She tastes sweet, like she just ate a bag full of Jolly Ranchers. I can feel her body coming alive as she climbs over the armrest and settles into my lap before sweeping her hands up my stomach to my chest. I try to think of every thought to not get hard but it’s useless as she grinds down and lets out the slightest whimper. I start to fumble with the buttons in front of me to let the top up, but she suddenly pulls away and lets out a deep breath, but rests her head on mine, her eyes bright and full of amusement.

  “Let’s go to beach,” she suggests brightly, then climbs off of me and slides back into her seat as if nothing happened.

  “The beach? It’s not even 70 out,” I point out, still hard as hell. Other than a few hairs being out of place and a slight flush of her cheeks, she looks completely unaffected.

  “Yep, I’m already wet anyway.”

  This girl is going to kill me.

  “To the beach we go then,” I relent.

  Our ride is quiet during the short ten-minute drive it
takes for us to get to the beach. My thoughts are on every unsexy image I can think of to get rid of the wood in my pants.

  When we get to the beach, it’s empty except for a few teenagers lingering and heading off. There would easily be hundreds of people here on a hot day.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, her voice whimsical, and I shoot her a wide smile. When I park the car she opens the door, excitement almost buzzing off of her.

  “I love water!” she almost squeals before getting out. I watch her walk down the concrete stairs to the sand, stopping only briefly to take her shoes off. She looks out over the water, flashing me a wide beautiful smile before plopping right down on the sand. I laugh to myself. After meeting her the other day I’d never figure her for being so innocently carefree. I definitely didn’t expect her to show up in a t-shirt and jeans on what would be our first date. I thought she’d want me to take her to an expensive as fuck restaurant where she could show off a designer dress. I make my way down and sit beside her, taking off my shoes too.

  “Did you plan on us coming here?”

  “I don’t plan much of anything,” she answers, her eyes glued to the water.

  That doesn’t surprise me.

  “I would have brought a blanket or something for us to eat if I knew you wanted to come here.”

  “This is perfect,” she replies shortly, but her smile is relaxed. My eyes sweep over her. Today she’s this beautiful girl, such a contrast to the sexy vixen I literally crashed into last week.

  “So I’ve got to ask. Why the beach?”

  She glances at me. “Why not the beach?” she says, leaning back to rest on her elbows.

  “Why not a bar, a restaurant, a movie?” I ask, and she shifts her body towards mine.

  “Close your eyes,” she says with a devious smile. I give her a reluctant grin.

  “Come on, you know you want to…” she sings. And I do.

  “Picture yourself somewhere far from here, the sun is hot, you have a super hot girl on your right. There’s a cold drink on your left, and the world has endless possibilities.” I feel her breath on my cheek. It’s warm and smells like the Jolly Ranchers I tasted on her earlier.