by King, Imani
“How is it coming?” he asks.
“Great. I finally figured it out.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” he says, stepping forward.
A beam of sunlight hits his hair.
A beam of sunlight…
His hair…
I drop my paintbrush.
No.
Pain and devastation claw through my stomach and strangle my throat.
No. No. No.
I remember.
I don’t want to remember, but I do.
“What is it, Tachell?” he asks, eyes wide with concern.
But he can’t help me.
He can’t ever help me again.
Because now that I remember, I can’t ever marry him.
Chapter 50
Tachelle - Memory
I lean against the railing, glancing up at the magnificent mansion from the porch. Well, from one of them at least. And, not for the first time this evening, I wonder why the hell I even came to this stupid party. Just a bunch of drunk recent grads, most of whom I’d probably never see again. Not only that, but my only friend here was Reggie. All of my other friends had proven their intelligence once again by staying far away from this night of drunken debauchery. And I’d proven myself to be a sap because Reggie hadn’t wanted to go alone.
You have Preston, I told him.
Preston will leave me immediately. All the girls cling to him.
All the girls cling to you, too.
Please, Tachell.
Fine. I’ll support you.
And what did all that sisterly love get me? Forty-five minutes after we arrived, he went off to one of the upstairs bedrooms with Clarissa. Now I had to wait for him to finish so we could finally go home.
“Hey Tachell,” an unfortunately very familiar voice slurs.
I glower at the man weaving in the doorway. I wish I could say Preston looked stupid with a drunk grin on his face, but he doesn’t.
Preston starts “walking” over to me. I sigh, turning my back to him as he flops over the side of the railing.
“So, Everett,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“He isn’t good enough for you.”
I snort. What the hell? “Yeah, Everett. Why do you care?”
There’s a tick in his jaw. He grips his plastic beer cup a little harder. “I don’t.”
“Yeah, exactly. So if I want to fuck Everett, it’s none of your business.”
His eyes flash up from his glass, full of heat. I’ve never seen anything like it, I don’t know what it means. I’ve never seen him look at me that way—at anyone or anything that way. He grips my arm, pulling me close. “You’re fucking him?”
I wasn’t. I actually hadn’t ever been with anyone. I was thinking about it, but I wanted to wait until it felt right. It didn’t feel right with Everett or most of the guys I went to school with. I’d heard guys like him talking about me, they thought I was easy just because I didn’t have as much money and wasn’t pretty like the other girls. It infuriated me.
However, none of this should be Preston’s concern. So why was he looking at me like he was never going to let. Me go?
My heart beats faster. Furiously fast. Frighteningly fast. I back up but he’s still advancing until he has either hand on the side of the balcony so I can’t escape, caging me in. I feel the heat from his body radiating off of him, the strength of his muscles through his clothes. Every part of him, strong and taut and ready for…something.
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.
He leans closer, almost close enough that our lips are touching. “Good.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m glad you’re starting to see me as something more than your brother’s best friend.”
“You don’t need to do this. I already see you as something more. An asshole.”
His expression deflates. His grip on me loosens. “Is that all you see me as, Tachell?”
I shiver. It’s the wind, because it’s so cold out here and so hot inside. It’s because he’s too close to me and acting all creepy. That’s the only reason I’m shivering. I’m sure of it. “Yes,” I whisper.
His eyes go hard again. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, luckily I don’t have to convince you.”
“But how much longer are you going to be able to convince yourself?”
What the hell is he getting at? I glare into his eyes, and they’re dark and full of something I don’t want to put a name to. My stomach is filling with a feeling I don’t want to acknowledge. Too many things are happening at once, and none of them make sense.
One of his hands comes up to cup my cheek. When his fingers make impact with my skin, my eyelids flutter. My entire body starts feeling like a thousand fireworks are about to take off.
“You’re drunk,” I whisper.
“No, I’m not. But I wish I were. Then, maybe, I’d do something beautiful we could both regret later.”
I push him away. “Stop teasing me.” I turn, gripping the railing, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m not teasing.” He brushes my hair from the back of my neck, sending more goosebumps down the back of my neck.
“Stop touching me.”
He sighs, stepping to the side. He grips the railing like he’s about to break it. “Don’t sleep with him, Tachell.”
“What?”
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
This was just…weird. What the hell was going on? “Did Reggie put you up to this?”
“No. Pretty sure he’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you like this. Or maybe not. You did just say you were fucking Everett.”
“I can fuck whoever I want. When the time is right, I’ll do it. No one owns me, not you or Reggie.”
He looks down. “Keep it that way.”
“What?”
“I’ll only give you to someone who loves you,” he stumbles forward, gripping my shoulders.
“You really are drunk,” I whisper.
“No,” he slurs. “I’m not.”
I push him away and start walking. I hear him call my name, but I’m already moving through the party and out the front door. What else was I supposed to do? Preston wasn’t the kind of man who could be tamed, and he certainly had no special feelings for me.
So why did I…why did I…?
I cringe. It was too horrible to even to myself in my own mind. I had a crush on him.
Yeah, it was pathetic. I hated to admit it. I hated, even more, to wonder when it had started. My mother had raised me to respect myself, and falling for Preston Easterbrook was the exact opposite of respecting myself. The man had everything handed to him. He was reckless. And, most of all, he didn’t respect me. He took every opportunity he could to tease me and make my life a living hell.
But there were moments when I thought I saw more in the way he looked at me. Moments when his behavior could be almost described as sweet. Though they were fleeting, they’d left an impression on me. And, I guess over the years I’d known him, all those little moments that should have been insignificant had piled into something big.
Very big.
There seemed to be two Prestons: The one he was and the one the world wanted him to be.
I knew it was stupid. My traitorous vagina just had a thing for blue eyed devils. He was several billion dollars worth of trouble I did not need or want.
But that didn’t stop these unwanted aching sensations inside me.
Finally I’m out the front door. I take a deep breath of cold midnight air and make my way down the driveway.
Home wasn’t too far away. If I walked, I’d be there in about thirty minutes. I could use the time to think.
I press my fingertips to my lips. God, what was wrong with me? We hadn’t even kissed back there on the porch, but I felt like we had. My body is certainly buzzing like we had, too.
“Tachell!”
For a moment, I freeze as that familiar voice spills out over me, doing dangerously beautiful things to my insides. I don’t want to think about it. I can’t think about it. “I’m going home!” I yell without turning.
I feel something grab my wrist and spin me around. Preston is there in all his glory, the lights in the grass splaying across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones, angular features, making his face a dangerous mix of sunshine and shadow.
My heart races. God damnit! Why did I have to become aware of this now? Why did I have to want him, of all people? Why couldn’t I just fall in love with a nice boy, one who wouldn’t work black magic on my heart and make my body feverish and my mind a gooey stupid mess?
He pulls me closer. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask.
“Don’t go.”
I gulp. “Why not?” My voice sounds different than it normally does. A bit breathless. A bit uncertain. I’d always been certain of everything, always been so strong. He was making me weak, something I could never afford to be, and certainly not if I wanted to be taken seriously as an artist. I already knew that I’d have to face people every day who thought I couldn’t succeed. I couldn’t let them affect me.
I couldn’t let him affect me.
He brings my hand over to his heart. “Because…”
I shut my eyes and try to pull away, but it’s a halfhearted effort. Still, he lets my hand go at the first sign of my resistance. It makes me wonder why I wanted so fiercely to break free. Why does he have to shatter my defenses, to make me doubt myself?
His fingers brush over my cheek, as gentle as flower petals. Slowly, gently, they tip up my chin so that I’m looking into those deep midnight blue eyes twinkling in the dark.
I can’t do this.
I shouldn’t do this.
But my protests are so difficult to remember when he’s this close and touching me so gently. He’s not breaking past my defenses, he’s melting them. He’s softly kissing away the protests of my conscious mind.
“I don’t want you to to go,” he admits.
“Why?” I ask again.
His eyes soften. I don’t think it’s possible for them to get softer, but they do somehow.
He moves so slowly and my heart is beating so fast it’s like an eternity passes before his lips reach mine. An eternity for me to rethink things. An eternity for me to push him away. But I don’t. I’m breathless with anticipation, tingling everywhere, so filled with desire that I can’t think straight. By the time he makes contact, I’m delirious.
This kiss is so different from the other kisses I’ve received up until now. Others have been clumsy as men try to claim me, competing with my power, trying to stifle my independence. This kiss asks me what I want. It shows me he is patient. It shows me he cares.
It’s respectful.
It’s strong without being overbearing.
He pulls back, and I grip his shirt, grabbing him, pulling him closer.
“No,” he says.
What the hell do you mean, no? You can’t kiss me like that and say no! I shout.
He laughs, leaning forward until his lips rest on my forehead. “I mean, fuck. I forget.”
I scowl. “God damnit, you’re really drunk aren’t you?” Right. All that reserve and strength I read into his kiss probably has to do with the fact that he’s struggling not to pass out.
God. I could be so pathetic. So…desperate.
I really shouldn’t be here, letting him in like this. It wasn’t good for either of us. I push him away.
“Hey!” he yells, stumbling back. “I’m not drunk.”
“Yes you are.” I march onward, my shoes sinking into the soggy ground. Damn, these rich people sure loved to water their lawns. I bet their monthly water bill could pay my dad’s salary.
The truth was, I didn’t want anything to do with this world. Sure, I lived in it, but only partially. My family wasn’t respected. The friendships I made at school were wonderful, but I wasn’t one of them and I never would be. I had to fend for myself. I had my own dreams and my own ambitions. I wasn’t going to let anyone hold me back.
My parent’s biggest wish was to see me succeed. I remember telling my mother I would be a lawyer. I got good grades and excelled in class. I was sure I could get into a top law school. My mother just frowned at me. Is that what you really want to do, Tachell?
Well, it makes a lot of money, I explained.
And who needs money? she asked.
You and dad.
Tachell, your dad and I take care of ourselves. We have a good house, a good job. We’re happy. We don’t need a lot, and we got enough to cover all our needs for the future. I didn’t work so hard to see my children not follow their dreams. I’m not gonna be a burden on you financially, now it’s up to you not to be a burden on me mentally. I want you to be true to yourself. I want you to never say no because you’re afraid. You want to help your dad and I out? You be a strong girl, Tachell. You live the life you want to live, just as we did.
You can’t argue with logic like that.
However, you can argue with logic like Preston’s.
“I’m not drunk!” he wails, racing towards me at an angle. Then at another angle. And then at another angle. I bet if I stand still he’d never reach me.
I’m the one who has to reach out to him to keep him from falling over. “You’re ridiculous. You can’t admit how much you want me.”
“I don’t want you!” I growl, about to push him away when he kisses me again.
Again, it’s soft. Again, it’s gentle. Again, it incites a darker passion within me that he refuses to indulge. These sweet kisses are dangerous because they make me want so much more.
He steps away from me with freakishly dilated pupils. “I want you,” he tells me.
I tell myself that this is stupid. We were both eighteen, but the differences between our abilities had never been clearer. Sure, I could school Preston at just about any subject, but he had me here, and he had me in a way that made me tremble with need and, for the first time in my life, doubt myself.
I should leave.
I should definitely leave.
And as I left, I shouldn’t look back. Not even once.
“You’re worried,” he says.
Worried was an understatement. “This is kind of moving too fast, and at the wrong time, and I can’t even tell how serious you are.”
He wobbles towards me. “I am so serious right now. I want to fuck you so bad—”
“God,” I say, completely disgusted with his lack of tact…and even more disgusted with my body’s response to it.
“I’ll show you how serious I am,” he says, taking my hand and placing it at the crotch of his pants.
I go still.
“Feel that?” he whispers.
HOLY SHIT! How could I not feel that? What the hell did he have in there, a broomstick?
“It’s like this because I want you so much.”
“I think it’s like that because you have a freakishly big dick.”
He laughs.
Alright, not the response I was expecting!
“Tachell,” he whispers, suddenly sobering. “I love you.”
“What?” I screech.
“I’ve always loved you,” he whispers, grabbing my head and pushing his forehead against mine.
Now is my chance.
Push him away.
Tell him he’s mean for playing such a cruel joke on you.
He doesn’t love you. He can’t love you. He hates you and you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life if you stay.
But I don’t listen to reason. Instead, I listen to my heart…and it’s beating like it loves him too.
Chapter 51
Tachelle - Memory Continued
“Not here, he whispers.
Not here? It sounds like something is about to happen. Something big. And every part of me buzzes with excitement and a giddy sort of fear—the kind you m
ight feel while inching up a roller coaster before the first big drop. And his hand is the only thing I have to hold onto before we both fall, so I grab it.
His expression intensifies, and then we take off.
We race past the rhododendron bushes, careful not to step on marigolds. More lights sparkle around us, and the distant noises of the party fade off into the night. Soon, it’s only us, our breath, our beating hearts. The sound of the old doorknob as he pushes it in. The sound of the old door to the pool house scraping the tile floor. He doesn’t turn on the light. His hands move to me immediately, grabbing my shirt, yanking it over my head.
I inhale sharply.
He kisses my neck, moving slower, his hands slipping beneath my bra over my oh so sensitive skin. The fountains ripple outside. My fingernails dig into my arms.
“Don’t be nervous.”
Easy for him to say. It wasn’t his first time.
“I—I haven’t done this before,” I admit.
He stops.
“Not with Everett?” he asks slowly.
“No.” I gulp. “We aren’t even going out anymore. He broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out.”
Preston pulls me in close. “Good girl.”
What the hell? “I don’t see what’s so good about it. I mean, look at what I’m doing now. And you’ve given me even less than Everett.”
He leans lower, his eyes becoming pensive. Even in the dark, I can read their expression clearly. “I love you.”
Oh God. It’s a good thing I’m sitting, because I am not prepared for this. Sure, he’s said it a few times now, but each time I hear it I feel like I’m gonna explode. I turn my head to the side, cheeks suddenly hot, suddenly aware of my state of undress. My emotions as messy as the clothing discarded on the floor. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“What?”
“Don’t—don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it.”
He takes my face in his hands again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling very young.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Tachell…”
“There’s no need to.”
“Please.”
Well, it’s hard to say no when he’s begging, when his voice is so soft and sweet. I blink, and his perfect face comes back into view.
