by Portia Moore
She pushes her plate away, the food untouched. Her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. And all I want to do is crawl inside her brain and steal all of the terrible thoughts, the nightmare memories, and make her better.
I want to hold her close and tell her it’s gonna be okay and wipe her tears, except she’s strong and there aren’t any. We sit in silence for a few minutes as the patrons and waitresses bustle around us.
“All you need to know is that I’ve had to fight really fucking hard to even be here right now.” She gestures to the crappy diner around us. “I’ve literally given everything I’ve got to survive. Done things I don’t believe in. Fallen in with people I can’t even think about. I didn’t want to be this person, but unfortunately, that’s the goddamn hand that the universe decided to deal me, and you—I don’t know where you fit in all of this but you’ve interrupted some plans, let’s just say that.”
“I’m sorry to be an inconvenience,” I tell her playfully.
“On a lighter note. I’m obsessed with music. I can listen to it all day. I love fruit and chocolate and I apparently have a thing for hot guys that like to pry more than they should.” She says the last part lightly and I chuckle.
“Well, I’ll make you a deal.” Her eyebrow moves to a perfect but wary arch.
“I won’t ask you anything else about your past if you eat some of your food.” Her face breaks out into a wide and amazing smile.
The rain starts to lash down outside, cracking against the diner windows like thousands of tiny whips, the wind howling through the broken glass. The taxis outside crashed through the quickly rising pools at the side of the road, soaking passers-by with muddied water, making them retreat even further into the doorways and stoops and under-awnings, sheltering helplessly under discarded sheets of newspaper and broken umbrellas turned inward from the gales.
I watch the weather rage from the right side of the window pane, and think about how this thing with Alana, whatever it is, was a lot like a storm—tumultuous and completely unpredictable, but worth every second of sunshine that pushed through after the clouds had cleared. She finishes her last mouthful of pancakes.
“What?” she asks suspiciously. “Have I got something on my face?”
I reach out and take her hand.
“Yeah,” I tell her softly. “Right here.” And I lean across and kiss her, full on the mouth.
Five
Megan
It’s our six-month anniversary and tonight I want Kam’s jaw to drop. It’s special, one of the most special days I’ve ever had.
I’m wearing a tight bandage with straps that cross over my chest and back, with a neckline that shows off my breasts to their best advantage, the hemline resting several inches above my knee. It’s the most revealing thing I’ve ever worn. Today I let Gabriella have her way with my makeup. She applied false eyelashes, deep black eyeliner that makes mine look like a cat, and red lips. When I look at myself the girl in the mirror is sexy, and I try to relish every ounce of it. I want Kam to take one look at me and rip my dress off. I thought I’d feel awkward wearing something like this, but I feel oddly comfortable.
I slip on a pair of black pumps and touch up my hair. I’m wearing it bone straight with a part down the middle. When I open the door Kam’s mouth drops and I can’t say that a tingle of excitement goes through me, but as my eyes roam the dark suit that fits his body like a GQ model, I tingle all over. He’s exceptionally handsome today and I can’t help but think that everything I’ve gone through has been worth it to experience moments like this.
“You look…” His eyes are darkening and I can tell they’re full of lust. He closes the door behind him and I smile widely.
“Is Gabriella home?” he asks in a deep voice as he glances around the apartment.
“She left for work an hour ago,” I tell him, feeling hot under his gaze. He pulls me over by the waist, his hand gripping my butt, touching me everywhere.
“We can’t—you have a reservation,” I protest weakly as he backs me against the wall, his hand slipping off my underwear. I can feel him hard against me.
“I’ll be quick,” he promises. Before I can object I’m pressed against the wall with him inside of me.
“Kam,” I whimper before his lips attack mine, his thrust fast, deep, and deliberate. I grip his neck holding on for dear life as he moves faster, deeper, and harder. We’ve made love so many different ways but this is different—the hunger in his eyes, the desperation of his kiss, his hands all over my body…breast, thighs, neck. I can feel him building as he starts to go faster.
“Oh God,” I cry out as his grip tightens around my waist, unable to catch my breath.
“I’m about to come,” he warns me, his moan guttural. I’m on the edge of my own release as I wrap my thighs tighter around his waist and I feel his body shudder as he quickly pulls out of me as my own climax rocks through my body. He sets me down as we both catch our breath. He kisses me long and deep. I let out a laugh.
“I wanted you to rip my clothes off but not before dinner,” I tease him. He sucks in a laugh, pulling down my dress. My apartment is tiny so it only takes a few steps for me to grab him a towel. I glance in the mirror, my hair no longer sleek and straight but my makeup still intact…aside from my smudged lipstick. I remind myself to thank Gabriella for using her expensive setting spray.
He pulls me to him and kisses me again. It’s soft, unhurried, and grateful. “I wanted to give you this at dinner, but I can’t wait.” He reaches into his breast pocket and hands me a small black envelope. I arch my brow curiously. I’m so nervous but I tear into it, wanting to know what it is. Kam’s gifts are always thoughtful and frequent but the buzzing through my body makes me think this will be more than special. My heart flinches when I see two silver keys on it.
“I want you to move in with me.” I’m speechless. I’m a cliché because I have no words. Move in with him? That’s such a big step. Is he sure? Is he ready? Am I ready? I think I am…or maybe I’m not?
“I-I don’t know what to say,” I stutter. He takes my face in his and holds it while he kisses me. When he pulls away I say to him what I always do. This man has kissed away every no I’ve ever had.
“Okay.”
I’m moving in with Kam. I’ll be living with him. It’s what is consuming most of my thoughts at dinner. The restaurant is beautifully elegant with five star food, and the wine makes me smile ridiculously. Kam’s finger trailing up and down my thigh makes me feel drunk with happiness for life. I think of the last time I felt sad or fearful since I’ve heard the voices and it’s been at least three months. The fact that I'm not counting anymore speaks volumes. I cut a piece of the most delicious chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted and feed it to Kam, trying to keep my breath calm as his one of his fingers slides inside of my underwear. I press against it and hold in a whimper. Our eyes lock as he licks his lips and I think of his tongue where his fingers are. I don’t know what’s happening to me. When did I become this person, so hungry with a need for sex that the thought of him under the table and in between my thighs makes me want to leave right now?
“Kameron.” The man’s voice makes all the yearning I had disappear. Kameron’s face transforms from mischievously seductive to shocked and irritated. We both turn to see George and a tall, distinguished brunette woman standing next to him wearing a tight smile.
“We didn’t interrupt did we?” he asks and I demand my cheeks not to flush as Kam's hand slides from underneath my dress. I can’t look at George. There’s something about that man that makes me want to clear the room he’s in.
“Megan, this is my Aunt Marilyn,” Kam says, his voice slightly warmer when introducing his aunt versus his uncle. I stand after Kam does, commanding my legs not to be weak, and Marilyn surprises me by giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You remember my Uncle George.” When George leans in for a hug I stiffen as he presses his entire body against mine.
“It’s so good to see you again Megan.�
�� His stare is knowingly smug and if there’s a question as to whether he saw what Kam was doing to me, his grin confirms it.
“We’re celebrating our anniversary,” Kameron explains, hoping they’ll take the hint for privacy.
“It hasn’t been a year has it?” George asks.
“Six months,” Kameron tells him.
“How wonderful,” Marilyn says with a kind smile.
“Yes very cute,” George adds, condescension lacing his tone.
“Well George, we should let them get back to their dinner,” Marilyn says, and my body relaxes.
“It looks like they’re finishing dessert. Let’s have a drink,” George announces, and Kam’s jaw twitches.
“Come Marilyn,” he tells her, pulling out her chair before his invitation to join our dinner is even accepted. They join us, and George orders a bottle of champagne to celebrate us. His wife Marilyn is a little uptight but perfectly nice. I make small talk with her about my major and she tells me she’s a broker.
“Megan, dear,” George says to me. “The last time we met I could have sworn I knew you from somewhere, and with how you look tonight it hit me.” My eyebrow shoots up. I don’t know what this man is talking about. I’ve never met or seen him before Kam’s parents’ brunch.
“Have you ever been to Code Black?” he asks, his eyes scrutinizing me.
“What’s Code Black?” Kam asks him, mildly irritated.
“Just a club I’m a member of. She bears a striking resemblance to one of the young ladies there.”
“I have no idea what that is,” I tell him firmly. I don’t know what kind of club he’s a part of or why he’d think I’d be there, but I have a feeling I should be insulted.
“I’m terribly sorry but we have plans for a show after this. We have to get going if you don’t mind,” Kameron says, barely able to hide his frustration.
“Oh, of course not. We’ll let you all proceed with your night. It was so good seeing you,” Marilyn gushes, probably relieved that this awkward encounter is over.
“I’ll get the check,” George says wryly.
“I appreciate it but you don’t have to do that,” Kam says, pulling out his wallet.
“Oh, but I insist. Consider it an anniversary gift,” George replies, placing a black card in the billfold, holding his eyes on me. A chill shoots down my spine.
Back in the car the mood has changed between me and Kam and I don’t know if it’s because of me or him.
“Is George your mom or dad’s brother?” I ask quietly.
“He’s my mom’s half-brother.”
“Makes sense, the half part” I through a tight laugh. Kam looks over at me with a sad smile.
“Babe what’s wrong?” I ask.
“You know you could tell me anything and I’d never judge you, not even for a second,” he says quietly. I feel my face tense.
“What are you asking me Kam?” I inquire, my voice slightly rigid. He lets out half a sigh.
“I’m just saying if you’ve ever worked there, I wouldn’t judge you, but I’d like to know.” His voice is slightly edgy.
I bite my lip, trying not to be offended or angry…I mean, it’s a legitimate question. But yeah, I’m offended.
“No, never. I’ve told you every place I’ve worked. From my first fast food job to the bookstore. I’ve never even heard of the place your uncle mentioned,” I tell him honestly. He nods and give me a smile.
“Okay,” he says, reaching over and taking my hand in his. But I let go of it and fold my arms.
I hate that tonight ended on this note. I hate that he thinks that I’d lie about where I’ve worked before. I pull out my phone and google the name of the place his uncle mentioned and nothing comes up. I want to mention that to Kam but I really don’t have much to say to him right now. When we pull in front of his place I want to tell him to take me home, but this is my home now, or will be, and though I’m upset I still want to be near him. We enter the apartment building, both of us not saying anything, just subtly glancing at each other as we make our way to his door. Once we’re in, Blue’s lying across the couch in a wifebeater and sweats. Katie’s nowhere in sight.
“What’s up guys,” he says, his attention on the TV.
“Hey Blue,” Kam says shortly before heading towards the bedroom. I head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water.
“Damn you look hot,” Blue laughs and I roll my eyes at him. Over the past few months Blue and I have almost become friends. It only makes sense the two black sheep are married to the golden children, as he puts it.
“Thanks,” I say dryly, opening the bottle of water. He grimaces.
“Ugh, things didn’t go well tonight?” he asks, leaning on the island.
“It did, then Uncle George showed up and ruined everything,” I mumble. Blue frowns.
“That guy’s such a douche,” he groans and I nod in agreement.
“Hey, have you ever heard of a place called Code Black?” I ask him. He shakes his head.
“No, should I?”
“No, their darling uncle swears I work there,” I mutter.
“Need me to find out what it is?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No, it’s not important,” I tell him.
“I’ll have some info for you in about a week. I just tracked down your old social worker and I have someone working her right now,” he says, and I arch my brow at him.
“Working her?” I ask, a hint of worry in my tone.
“Nothing illegal, I promise,” he says with an innocent smile.
“Great. Thank you again Blue,” I reply, heading to Kam’s room.
“Hey, did you get the key?” he asks as I’m halfway across the room.
I look at him, a little surprised. He knew. Of course he knew Kam was going to ask me.
“I did,” I say with a wide smile. He gives me two thumbs up and I chuckle. When I make it to Kam’s room he’s on the balcony, phone in hand. I grab a t-shirt out of his drawer and head to the bathroom and take a shower. There’s no use in looking sexy, that mood’s been sucked right out of the night. I’m surprised to see Kam isn’t in bed or on the balcony by the time I’m out. Is this our first fight?
The first of many…
I pull back the sheets to his king bed and tuck myself under them before turning off the lamp. A few minutes later I hear him come in. I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I’m not sure why but I hate the energy between us tonight and just want to sleep it away until tomorrow. I’m caught off guard when the cover lifts off me. I feel Kam’s warm, lean body lay on top of mine.
“I don’t want to fight,” he whispers in my ear. I look at him, his eyes apologetic and his touch even more so, and when his head dips between my thighs I forgive him a million times over.
Six
Ian
It's been six months and Alana's been in my bed every night since our first date at the diner. She's already up like she always is, standing on our micro-sized patio looking out over the street. It's only 5 am and it's only stragglers and the sounds of dogs and garbage trucks passing though. I slip my hands around her waist and she rests her head on my chest. I inhale the scent of my shampoo and I squeeze her waist. I love when she smells like me; it reminds me that she's here, it's real, and she belongs to me.
We haven't made it official as of yet, but what's understood doesn't need to be said. I do want to mention it but I already hate feeling like the chic in the relationship. We're with each other every day but I don't usually have her for long since I have to work my shitty job at the factory in the day and she works nights at the club I really fucking hate, but today my machine is down so I have her for hours since she doesn't work until 10 pm.
"I've been thinking..." she says, her voice light, airy, innocent in its own way—a whole other type of seductive. I’ve never been one of those guys that believed in vibes and karma and all that but that’s started to change because I love not just her, but her essence. She’s wild, spontane
ous, and passionate but when she lets me see that innocent vulnerable part of her—that’s not guarded, that she trusts me with—I feel like I'm in an exclusive club. The bad thing about it is most times I don’t know what the hell is on her mind. I never cared what any other girls I dated thought. As long as the sex was good and they didn’t talk too much, I was fine. But with Alana it’s different and not knowing makes me feel like I'm on a clock, ticking down to when she'll leave.
"I think I might quit the club."
I fight the smile threatening to break out on my face. She turns around, facing me, wearing a knowing smirk. I try to be nonchalant but I can’t help it. I hate the fact that she works there. I don't care how upscale it is and that she isn't necessarily naked. I only want my eyes and hands on her, and it takes everything in me to not go in there every night and drag her out, but I know better than that with Alana. Any hint of trying to control her will push her away, and I've fought too hard for every inch of progress I've made with her.
"Don't act like you're not ecstatic," she says teasingly, wrapping her arms around my neck. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist.
"Well you said thinking, so that means you haven't made up your mind yet…so nope, not ecstatic yet." I give her a quick kiss on the lips before putting her down. I take her hand and pull her into the kitchen. She sits at the table, head in hand, watching me as a I pull out some eggs and a skillet to make her breakfast.
"So what can I do to get a definite yes about quitting?" I ask her. She massages her head and I notice a sly smile spread across her face. I give her a wicked grin and she bursts out into a fit of laughter. Her eyes gleam and her cheeks flush, and I take pride that I can get her to laugh like that.
"Well...your pictures," she says easily. I glance at her as I crack the eggs over the skillet. She loves them sunny-side up.
"What do you mean?"
"I think you should give them a shot. A real shot..." she says urgently. I fight the impulse to shrug her off.
