Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  I shake my head in response and continue picking at my chicken salad sandwich. She’s offered an olive branch in the form of sandwiches, sweet tea, and pound cake. Who am I to refuse? The silent treatment is wearing on me, so I eagerly accepted her invitation.

  My dad and Emmett had a ten o’clock tee time this morning, so they won’t be home until mid-afternoon. It’s just the two of us, and I’m curious. Is this the part where she chains me to my bed and forbids me to leave for New York? Luckily, I have my running shoes on, and I’m not afraid to use them.

  “Do you remember your Aunt Jesse, Alexandra? You’ve met her a few times,” my mother asks as she anxiously taps the black granite countertop with her perfectly manicured nails. She quickly clasps her hands together to mask her nerves.

  “Um…” I hold a napkin to my mouth and swallow quickly. “Yes, ma’am, I remember meeting her once or twice. She doesn’t live around here, right?”

  “No, she moved far away the moment the calendar flipped to her eighteenth birthday. She’s come home a few times throughout the years, but her relationship with the family has always been … tumultuous.”

  “Okay? Why are you asking me about her?”

  She ignores my question as she fingers the pearls draped on her neck, lost in her own thoughts. A tiny smile plays on her lips.

  “It was just the two of us, you know? She was my baby sister, and I mothered her every chance I got. Goodness gracious, I loved that little girl.” Her voice is soft, almost wistful. “She gave Mimi fits. She enrolled her in piano lessons, but Jesse wanted to play the drums. Instead of tennis, she signed up for soccer. Mother always taught us to be quiet, respectful, and gracious. Children should be seen and not heard, she always said. Jesse was loud, boisterous, larger than life.”

  “She sounds like a lot of fun,” I say quietly.

  “Oh, she was. In between the constant groundings and heated arguments, she was a bright light. Chaos in the face of uniformity.”

  I’m unsure where this conversation is going, but I love hearing my mother reminisce. I feel closer to her right now than I have since I was a little girl. She’s always so stoic—it’s refreshing to see her vulnerable side.

  “On our sixteenth birthdays, Mimi gave each of us a strand of pearls. I was so proud when she clasped them on my neck. I’ve never stood so tall.” I chance a look at her, and I’m surprised to see the tears pooling in her eyes. “Jesse said when Mimi placed the pearls on her, they felt like thick chains, choking her to death. She ran to her room and took them off immediately. She never wore them again after that day. Mimi took it as an insult, one of many. The rules, the expectations—Jesse said it was all so suffocating.”

  A tear escapes and trickles down her cheek as she fights for composure. I can’t remember a time in my life where I’ve seen my mother cry. Composure, Alexandra. A true Southern lady is always in control of her emotions.

  “You remind me so much of her, Alexandra, and it scares me to death.” She runs a finger across my cheek and tips my chin. “Do I … does this life feel like an albatross around your neck? Are you suffocating?”

  “If I blindly followed the plan that you’d decided for me? Yes, I’d probably feel that way. But I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. I love you and Daddy with all of my heart, but I can’t be something I’m not.”

  “I know that, darling. Deep down, I truly do. But I’m so afraid you’ll leave and never look back, just like Aunt Jesse. I’m so afraid of losing you.”

  I know she’s struggling with my decision, but it’s obvious she’s trying, and I love her for that. In her mind, she lives the perfect life. She can’t imagine anyone would want something different—she can’t fathom anything better. And for her, it’s the absolute truth. It’s just not the life for me.

  I pull her into a bear hug, and she squeezes back tightly, wrinkled outfit be damned.

  “You won’t lose me, Momma,” I whisper in her ear, “but I need you to love me as I am. I need you to accept that I know what I want. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, darling. I’ll love you however I can have you. Please be patient with your father and me. We’re trying to come to terms with this.”

  I pull away from our hug and grin. “Y’all won’t regret it, I promise!”

  “I have so many regrets when I think of Jesse. I won’t let that happen with you, darling. Never.”

  I set the picnic basket down in the grass and unfold the patchwork quilt, smoothing out the wrinkles. The sun is setting instead of rising for this visit with West. Everything about tonight is different. Instead of hello, it’s goodbye. It hurts, but the thought of not being here hurts much more.

  I turn around to open the picnic basket, and then West magically appears, a few inches from my face. I startle and grip my chest as he snakes an arm around my waist.

  “West, I almost had a heart attack. You’re too stealthy for your own good.” I slap his chest as I catch my breath.

  “A trait that should serve well in my chosen profession, don’t ya think?” he quips.

  Amusement dances in his eyes, and a smile plays on his lips, but his words ground me. My head falls to his chest, and my arms tightly grip his biceps for balance.

  “Hey now. It’s okay. Look at me, Alex,” he says as his fingers lift my chin to meet his eyes. “It was a stupid joke. I’m sorry. Tonight’s about you and me, okay?”

  “Okay.” I nod somberly.

  His eyes travel down my dress, to my bare feet, and back up again. I see the appreciation in his face. He runs his hands up my arms and laces them together at the base of my neck. He tangles his fingers in my hair as he rests his forehead on mine.

  “God, Alex, you are … beyond beautiful.” He swallows hard and tightens his fingers in my hair. “I can’t seem to find the words.”

  I can’t wait a moment longer to feel my lips against his. I crash into him. What I lack in finesse I make up for in desire, and I don’t think he minds one bit.

  When we finally come up for air, I lead him to the quilt to sit down with me. I brought food from the club’s kitchen. Miss Anna watched me suspiciously as I packed, but she knows how close West and I have become. I see the worry in her eyes, but she always listens without judgment. She’s awesome that way.

  My parents are attending a charity ball tonight, so I don’t expect them home anytime soon. I’m glad it worked out that way because I plan to spend every single second of this night with West. He leaves tomorrow, so tonight is all we have left.

  “How long can you stay?” I reach into the basket to retrieve our plates and napkins, watching him through lowered lashes.

  “It’s just you and me tonight. I spent all day with Mom and Lucy. I’ll have breakfast with them in the morning before I catch the bus. There’s nowhere else I need to be but right here. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

  “Good.”

  He claps his hands together loudly. “Let’s eat!” he says with more enthusiasm than I can muster.

  But I’ll find it. For him.

  “Alex, we have to stop,” West warns as his hand that’s crept up my skirt slowly retreats.

  I grab his wrist to stop its descent and pull away from his lips, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

  We’re lying side by side on the quilt, and my leg is hitched up over his thigh. We’ve been stealing kisses for the past month, but this is the furthest we’ve ever gone. It’s as if there is this invisible line that West refuses to cross, the thought of his leaving never far from his mind.

  I feel him pulling away from me, but I won’t accept it this time.

  “I want you.” My hand slides under his shirt, my fingertips dancing lightly across the tightened muscles in his back, showing more conviction and confidence than I actually feel.

  “Alex, I leave tomorrow. You leave in two months. As much as it hurts me to say it, our paths may not cross again for years. If ever.”

  My fingers find their way into his unrul
y hair. I stroke slowly as I take his lips with mine. His battle with himself is palpable.

  “I know what this is, West. It’s goodbye, and it’s what I need from you,” I whisper against his lips then continue the kiss.

  “Have you ever?”

  I hesitate for a moment. I’m not sure how he’ll react to my answer. I shake my head slightly, and that’s all it takes for him to physically retreat. He jumps up and moves clear on the other side of the quilt.

  “No, Alex. I can’t do that to you. I’m not taking this from you and leaving the next day.”

  He wears a look of conviction, but that won’t stop me. He doesn’t realize I’m just as determined as he is. I get up on my knees and go to him before he takes off down the fairway.

  “West, you’re not taking anything. I want it to be you … I need it to be you.”

  “You’ll never forgive me.” He runs his hand down my cheek and turns his head to the side.

  “I’ll never forgive myself if I let you walk away tonight without giving myself to you.” I run my tongue across his jawline and meet his lips. His return is stiff, but he doesn’t push away.

  “I’m still the same girl, West. I’m still your Poppy Girl, running through the flowers with my white dress blowing in the wind.” I nip at his neck and feel his pulse jumping erratically. I reach his ear and bite softly on the lobe and whisper, “I’m just not wearing any underwear.”

  I feel the chuckle in his chest before I hear it, then his hand touches my thigh and slowly creeps up. When he reaches the seam of my panties, he squeezes my cheek tightly and pulls me to him. I feel his erection press against my stomach, and my breath hitches in excitement.

  “No underwear, huh?”

  I laugh and shake my head as I pull his shirt over his head. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but tonight is different. He’s never been so beautiful. Between his gentle smile, hungry eyes, and broad, muscular chest, I’m overtaken. I take my time appreciating him, committing every inch of his body to memory, knowing it’s all I’ll have after tonight.

  “It was a metaphor,” I giggle as I pull my dress over my head, exposing my white lace bra and panties with pink trim.

  West devours me with his eyes, grips my waist, and roughly pulls me close. His tongue slides against mine as I fumble rather clumsily with the button on his pants.

  “Wait, Alex. I don’t have any condoms,” he says as we get off our knees and lay down together.

  “Check the picnic basket. It’s stocked with much more than food,” I joke as I finally move his zipper down, down, down.

  My hand hesitantly creeps inside his zipper, and I wrap my hand around him through his boxer shorts. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, a low moan rumbling in his chest.

  “Alex, I’m gonna explode if you keep touching me.” He gently moves my hand and lies on top of me.

  His lips, his tongue, his hardness pushing right where I need him most—it’s too much and not enough all at once. Between breathy kisses, I ask the question that I can’t seem to push out of my mind.

  “Have you ever, West?”

  He stops moving and looks over my face with … regret? His fingers brush my forehead lovingly, and he settles next to me with his head propped on his hand.

  “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says quietly.

  “Oh.”

  “But have I ever done this? No, never. Nothing has ever come close to this.” He kisses me sweetly as his thumb brushes over my bra. I arch in response, hungry for more of him. “You are a first for me, Alex. In more ways than one. In every way that counts.”

  His hand travels over my belly button, down to my panties. He looks at me, wordlessly asking permission. My expression must please him, because he continues his descent. I grab his neck and pull his lips to mine, moaning into his mouth as his fingers slide over me, then enter me.

  The sensations overpower me. He pushes me toward the edge with his perfectly placed thumb, he stretches me with his fingers, and he devours me with his lips. A slow moan builds from within, and I lose control. Waves of pleasure consume me, and my breath comes in short bursts.

  “You amaze me,” he whispers against my lips as I begin to calm.

  My eyes are still closed, but I feel my panties slide down my legs, and a wrapper crinkling breaks through the silence. I look up and see the most intoxicating sight ever kneeling between my legs. My eyes travel over his handsome face, his muscular chest, his defined abs, and then his … oh, shit. One singular thought clouds my brain.

  That thing is not gonna fit.

  I lift my eyes when I hear West’s chuckle, and that jerk has the most arrogant grin aimed right at me. I take off my bra and throw it right at his face.

  “Well, somebody’s mighty pleased with himself! Newsflash—I’ve never seen anybody else’s … package, so you could be really small for all I know.” I cross my arms over my chest and huff.

  West’s eyes cloud as he reaches down and moves my arms out of the way.

  “Please don’t cover yourself.” He places light kisses to the tops of my breasts. His eyes look up and meet mine. “Believe me, Alex, I’m the one in awe right now.”

  He moves more firmly in between my legs, and I feel him close to my entrance. He pushes slightly, and a rush of anxiety, excitement, and a teeny bit of pain pass through me.

  “Ouch, take it out! I need a minute,” I shout as I tap his shoulder insistently.

  West laughs softly into my shoulder and then rises to meet my gaze. “Alex, I haven’t put it in yet.”

  A smile creeps across my face, and I burst into laughter. Leave it to my big mouth to ruin the mood. It takes us several minutes for our laughter to fade, and West’s gentle eyes meet mine.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he starts before I shake my head in disagreement.

  “I want this more than anything, West. I let my nerves drive for a minute. That’s all.”

  I lick his bottom lip, and he allows me entrance. This kiss is slow, gentle, and loving. I separate from him and look into his eyes.

  “Tell me something, West. Tell me something I don’t know,” I whisper as I feel him nudging between my legs.

  “Leaving you will be the hardest thing I ever do,” he says as he enters me.

  Truthfully, it hurts. It isn’t the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, but it’s extremely uncomfortable. My first time doesn’t read like a romance novel. It’s not the mind-blowing experience that writers describe. But it’s soul squeezing. It’s heart bending. It’s life-changing in its own right.

  And I wouldn’t change one thing.

  As I lay next to West in comfortable silence, I want to say so many things. I want him to know that I’ll wait a lifetime for the chance to be with him again. I want to tell him that I love him.

  But I keep my words inside, knowing that it will only make it harder for him to leave. That’s my burden to carry, not his.

  If only I knew this beautiful boy would disappear from my life after this night, I would have said so many things…

  “6’2” by Marie Miller

  “SO, I’M GOING to ask you a series of rapid fire questions to test our compatibility. No first date is complete without a lightning round, don’t you agree?” Quentin’s blue eyes sparkle with laughter as I shrug shyly and giggle. They’re light and cheerful, in direct contrast with the dark and brooding eyes from my past.

  Just let it go, Alex.

  “Totally agree.” I stretch my neck from side to side and crack my knuckles in preparation. “I’m ready. Do your worst!”

  “Night owl or early riser?”

  “Night owl, definitely.”

  “Sand or snow?

  “Sand, but not in the crack of my ass.”

  “No, no. Just answers, no explanations.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “A girl with something to hide. Interesting.”


  “No, no. Just questions, no commentary.”

  “Touché. Romantic comedy or action movie?

  “Romantic comedy … sorry, I’m hopeless.” I shrug apologetically.

  “You’re forgiven. I’ve been known to watch a rom-com every once in a while, but don’t tell anyone. It’ll fuck with my street cred.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do that. I’d hate for you to lose the respect of your posse.”

  “Don’t play, girl. I’m deep in the streets.”

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if my life depended on it. I met Quentin at a Northern University art exhibit last week. He argued that the fruit display was more aesthetically pleasing than ninety percent of the art on display. I argued that his brain must not be developed enough to appreciate true beauty. His response?

  “Hmmm. What does that say about you, since I find you truly stunning?”

  I didn’t hesitate when he asked me to meet him for drinks. A handsome man with a snarky sense of humor? Yes, please. To say I have bad dating juju would be the understatement of the century. I need a win in my corner. Quentin has proven to be a victory thus far.

  Sparkling blue eyes and blond waves that brush his shoulders?

  Check.

  Sexy five o’clock shadow and biceps that have his shirtsleeves stretching to their limits?

  Check.

  A smart sense of humor, throaty laugh, and interest in something other than himself?

  Check, check, and check.

  Did I feel fireworks and butterflies when he placed his hand on my lower back and led me to our table? Nah, but that’s not the end of the world. I feel a relaxed friendship, and that’s something I can build upon. I like our back and forth, and I silently wish he’ll ask to see me again at the end of the night. In the past, fireworks and butterflies have left me shattered, so I will myself to enjoy the moment.

  “Do I get a turn with the lightning round? I need to see if you make the cut,” I joke good-heartedly.