Taming Mr. Jerkface (The Taming Series Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  “Are you okay doing this?” She asked me fifteen minutes later after leaving my side to deal with another customer, “I didn’t know things would pick up this quickly.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured her, “my best friend back home recently opened a boutique. I’m always helping out there. This is good.”

  “It usually slows down later in the afternoon.”

  “Go do your thing,” I waved her away.

  Keisha wasn’t wrong. Two hours later, the store basically cleared. Handing over the management of the store to her young cashier, Keisha led me to her living quarters at the back of the building. The first thing she did was put the kettle to boil for tea. At that moment, Susan texted to tell me that she was near. I gave her more specific directions and ten minutes later, we were all sipping tea in Keisha’s small but homey living room.

  “So,” Susan dived in without preamble, “What’s going on with you and Spencer?”

  “Huh?”

  “We want details,” Keisha chimed in.

  “What details?” I asked genuinely puzzled.

  “Don’t play dumb,” Susan scolded, “Have you guys made it official yet? Has he dropped the ‘L’ word? Are you two gonna try a long distance thing?”

  “I don’t-”

  “Because 70% of long distance relationships don’t work out, just so you know.”

  “Susan!” I interrupted, “breathe!”

  She chuckled, “I’m sorry. I’m just totally shipping Spelody.”

  “Spelody?”

  Keisha laughed.

  “It was either that or Melcer.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you guys have such terrible monikers. There is no other way to fuse those weird names together.”

  I laughed at her frankness.

  Susan leaned back into the sofa, “You’re not wrong though about me being crazy. Trust me, I’ve sought medical help but I’m a lost cause.”

  “Susan, stop poking fun at yourself,” Keisha scolded laughingly.

  “Hey, I’m just telling it like it is. But honestly, you and Spencer make such a cute couple. Imagine how gorgeous your babies would be.”

  “Susan!” I cried. Whoa, she was getting way ahead of herself. “Even if we were getting serious, I don’t think Spencer and I would be ready for children. I’m only twenty.”

  “Twenty year olds have babies all the time!”

  Keisha, the traitor, only cackled at us.

  But Susan was just getting started, “So, is he a good kisser?”

  I choked on my green tea.

  Keisha piped in, “I would also like to know.” She admitted, before hiding her smirk behind her tea cup.

  My face heated and my mind raced for information to stall them, but the two were like a pack of rabid dogs on a scent.

  “Spill it, Mel.”

  I threw my arms up in defeat, almost sloshing hot tea on my dress.

  “Yes! Yes! Okay, he’s a phenomenal kisser. Are you happy?”

  Susan looked like she was about to burst with glee. “I knew it! I knew it!” she turned to Keisha, “Melody showed up with the most obnoxious hickey I have ever seen on her neck at work on Monday.”

  Both of Keisha’s eyebrows rose. My eyes widened in horror.

  “Spencer gave you a hickey?”

  “Uh, yeah. I didn’t know you saw that.”

  Susan rolled her eyes, “Girl, puh-lease, I was around you too much not to notice. I don’t think anyone else saw it. But don’t worry, its faded now.”

  I was so embarrassed. Keisha, noticing my discomfort and tried to change the subject, but Susan was like a nosey mosquito that just wouldn’t quit.

  “So, has he said the ‘L’ word yet?”

  I cradled my cup, finding the yellow liquid inside super interesting all of a sudden.

  “No.”

  Keisha placed a comforting hand on my arm.

  “And how do you feel about that.”

  I looked at her, “I don’t know. I’m worried that it’s too early for that, you know? I mean, I know what I feel inside when I’m with him. But I don’t want to act on feelings alone.”

  “What does that even mean?” Susan broke my bubble of self-reflection. “Do you love him or not?”

  I slanted her an irritated look, but answered truthfully, “I think I might love him. When he gives me this secret smile,” I pictured it in my mind, “it’s like one corner of his lips go upward and it’s only a hint of a smile. But just seeing it makes my belly flutter. And when we kiss…” I blew out a breath, “let’s just say I enjoy it very much,” my voice lessened to a whisper and both Susan and Keisha leaned forward, rapt at attention as I spilled out my confession. “And we argue. A lot. But it’s not hurtful arguing. He’s just so intelligent and I get a kick out of disagreeing with him just so I can hear him rant about something.” I shook my head in frustration as I recalled our earlier disagreement about love, “But we have such different views on love and don’t get me started about faith. I mean, I’d always thought I’d find my husband in church, you know? Someone strong in the Lord who’d lead our house with faith.”

  Keisha’s face softened with understanding. She was a woman of faith as we’d discussed the first time I’d visited her shop. But Susan’s face darkened with annoyance.

  “What does God have to do with love? You’ve basically just admitted that he’s wonderful and you love him.”

  Keisha tried to explain, “Christians are supposed to love by a certain moral code and our end game is to disciple others so that they too can be transformed by Christ. It’s hard to do these things when your partner doesn’t understand why you do them.”

  “Wait. Wait. Are you telling me Melody and Spencer shouldn’t be together because he’s not a Christian?”

  I piped in, Keisha was essentially right but we diverted when it came to certain points.

  “See, I have two passports: one for earth and another for heaven.”

  Susan’s face was still screwed up but I could tell she was trying to understand.

  “Though I reside on earth, I live by the constitution of heaven. See heaven is a kingdom, not a democracy. I serve a King whose word is law. When I marry, my husband needs to be a part of that kingdom so we both walk in the same direction. If he only has one passport and I have two, we’ll live by two different constitutions and we’ll be in constant conflict.”

  Susan’s face betrayed her confusion.

  “Okay. I got some of what you just said, but we can’t choose who we fall in love with. I’m not professing to understand the whole Kingdom thing, but I do know that when your heart decides, it cannot be persuaded by the obstacles.”

  I could dive into the whole ‘love versus lust’ debate, but the conviction in my heart stayed my tongue.

  “No.” I admitted, “Your right. We can’t choose. If we could, the world would have been a much simpler place.”

  “So, why did you even start dating Spencer if you knew your beliefs would keep you apart?” Susan inquired.

  Why indeed.

  I spoke from the heart, “Honestly, when I’d first started getting to know Spencer, I never thought I’d feel this way about him or that he’d really start caring about me. I mean, the first time we really hung out, he kissed me, so I knew immediately that he was interested in more than friendship, but at the time I never thought I’d see him again.”

  I placed the now empty tea mug on the coffee table, smiling as I recalled, “We weren’t friends, we weren’t even acquaintances, but he kissed me and I let him. We were just getting to know one another and I liked it. I liked the simplicity of it. It wasn’t supposed to get complicated. I knew we had a time limit and I thought that would keep me from getting sucked in too deep.”

  “But-” Susan prompted.

  “Let her speak,” Keisha scolded.

  Susan huffed.

  “But,” I grinned, “there’s nothing ‘casual’ or ‘simple’ about Spencer Braden
. All the feelings he was inspiring in me… I got carried away.”

  And now it was time to step back.

  Tears welled. Feelings, doubts, it all swirled a nervous concoction in my stomach. I felt a stirring in my heart, as the realization that I would have to let Spencer go solidified in my Spirit.

  Oh God, please no. Spencer seems open to You. He’s searching.

  Silence.

  No. NO, I only have one more day with him, only one more. Why now?

  Silence.

  I felt like throwing my mug on the floor. I didn’t even feel the tear as it slid down my cheek. Susan’s stricken face was the only indication that my pain had manifested physically. She scooted closer to me on the sofa and put her arms around me.

  “I’m sorry Melody. I don’t mean to belittle your faith. I just don’t understand it.”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s not you, Susan. It’s me. It’s all me.”

  Keisha’ somber tone piped in, “What are you going to do now?”

  Despair dug a pit in my chest.

  “I don’t know.”

  That was a lie. I did know. I just really, really wished I didn’t have to.

  “Have you ever done something wrong, Sus?”

  She looked taken aback, “Of course I have?”

  “How did you make things right? Did you even try to?”

  “What are you getting at,” Susan replied, perplexed.

  “Talking aloud to you made me realize that I’ve been playing with someone’s heart. I’ve been dipping my toe into a forbidden pool of desires and deception, and I’ve been ignoring the Truth.”

  “And what is the truth?” Keisha prodded.

  I gripped Susan’s hand, feeling the solemnity and heaviness of the statement I was about to make, “The truth… The truth is I shouldn’t have encouraged a relationship with Spencer in the first place.”

  “What?” Susan gasped, “I never meant to imply-”

  “But you did. It was so obvious to you and yet I didn’t see it until just now.”

  “I never meant to push you into breaking up with him.”

  “I know you didn’t. And please don’t feel bad about this. But I never stopped to think about what I was doing. I kept telling Spencer to put off the worrying, leave common sense for a later day. The thing is I was just being selfish and unfair. Spencer’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be used.”

  “He also doesn’t deserve to be punished because he doesn’t believe the way you do.” Susan pointed out.

  “I only know what my Spirit is telling me. I have to tell him.”

  Keisha held my hand, “I know this is hard for you. I’ll be praying.”

  I gripped her dark hands tightly.

  “Thank you.”

  I’m going to need it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When Spencer called to meet up later that night, I told him I was sick. Which was technically true. I was heart sick.

  “I could come over, make you some chicken noodle soup.”

  “You know how to do that?” I asked.

  “I know how to buy the can and dump it in a pot.”

  I shook my head, “It’s okay.”

  “Will you be feeling better tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  He started going on about some place he wanted to take me the next day if I was feeling up to it, but I tuned out, trying to find the courage to “break up” with him. And how do you even break up with someone when you’re not even officially together?

  We hung up a few minutes later. Flinging myself on my bed, I cried out to the King.

  “Please, Daddy, I care about him. Maybe even love him. He can come to You on his own. We can make it work. Please, please!”

  I cried. I begged. I threw a tantrum, tossing pillows and bed clothes to the floor. Still the stubborn conviction remained.

  Let. Him. Go.

  I went to sleep totally pissed at God and determined that even if He was the King, He was a douche who refused to compromise.

  Spencer was a nice man. He was not perfect, I’ve never met a man who was, but he was a good man. I knew that he deserved better than a break up founded on a spiritual prompting and I wanted nothing to spoil our last day together. I was leaving on Saturday any way. The heavy conversation wasn’t even necessary. No commitments had been made so technically there was no need to break things off with Spencer. We were just friends. Friends that kissed, but basically friends, I reasoned.

  Throughout the night, I recalled the best points of our ‘friendship’: the day Spencer took me to Isabella’s, when we fell asleep on his couch after cooking a Belizean meal together, and our adventure to Hollywood and Beverly Hills. My heart was safe with this man. His respect for my convictions was consistent. His understanding and openness to the Kingdom was phenomenal. I could probably even stick around and encourage him to grow in the faith. I wrestled with God all night, negotiating a deal that would allow me to keep on getting to know Spencer and lead him to the Truth as well.

  The King’s silence ricocheted through the empty night loud and clear: NO DEAL.

  I eventually fell asleep with anger in my heart.

  The morning light assaulted my eyes. I groaned and pulled the sheet over my face, but the damage was done. I was awake. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and swiped it on. The time caused me to moan. No, it was too early for reality.

  Unfortunately, nature barreled into my bladder and filled it like a lake, so I swung out of bed to go answer the call. When I was done, I washed my hands. I had an hour to burn until Spencer picked me up for breakfast. I wondered what he had planned for the day.

  Melody, I felt the warning in my soul, let him go.

  Uh-uh. None of that. I rushed to turn on the television to drown out the Voice of Truth. I had never been so blatantly disobedient. Well except for one time when I was seven. God told me to give my dollar to a homeless man, but I remembered my mom talking to my dad about buying the beggars food instead to keep them from using the money for drugs. So I went to the store and I bought the homeless man a biscuit. But it was my favorite biscuit.

  So I ate it.

  Apart from that one occurrence, when God spoke, I usually listened. Normally, though, I could see the sense in it. Like that night Mia and I snuck out for the Chronixx concert, all God had to say was “Melody!” and I replied, “Yes sir, I’m going back home”, turning Mia right back around and re-entering the house the same way we left it. Mia was ticked, but at least my spirit was at peace.

  This time was different. This order was so unfair and I did not want to submit to it. My choice to rebel did not come without strings. I had never felt so bamboozled before. The King and I were at a stand-off and the uneasiness in my heart left me on edge. I had a bad feeling about today, beyond the fact that it was my last day together with Spencer.

  To quiet my thoughts, I decide to shave my pits and legs. I always marveled at how hairy my legs got. It was annoying really, that some girls were born with smooth, hairless skin and I regenerated hair like one of the X-men. I’d much rather be a naked mole rat than a hairy one. Alas, after what felt like hours the arduous task was done and my legs were smooth and hairless. I padded to the dresser and picked through the clothes to find an outfit. I wanted to look perfect but casual as if I hadn’t tried to look perfect but casual. The temperature was hot so I finally decided on a cute white lace sleeveless summer dress. I tied the waist with a thin woven brown belt and accessorized with a dainty gold bangle. I wasn’t sure what kind of activities we’d be doing so I erred on the side of caution and wore flat leather thong sandals. I had fifteen minutes to do my makeup which was more than enough time for me to slap on some mascara, eyeliner, and chapstick.

  By the time Spencer arrived, I was almost ready. Almost. The buzz of the door found me tugging on my left sandal. I hopped to the door, opened it and hopped on my only clad foot to the sofa where I sat to finish buckling the sandals. Satisfied, I
stood, flinging my crazy mane to one side of my shoulder. Spencer said he like my hair down, so I delivered it in all its tangled, curly glory. When I straightened and got a good look at Spencer, I almost fell back on the sofa. Nerd or not, that man was fooine. He wore a white Henley T-shirt beneath a dark blue open collared button down long sleeved top. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and just seeing those folds made me crazy. The jeans he wore, on any other man would have been ordinary, but on Spencer, it was modelifique! Did he even know how good looking he was? As I was checking him out, he was surveying me with the same unabashed tenacity. By the glimmer in his eyes, I knew he liked what he saw.

  “Hey,” he said, his husky timber making me shiver.

  “Hey,” he seemed to remember something and pulled out a bouquet of flowers from his back, “I know you’re not a flowers kind of girl,” he said.

  At first glance, the sunflowers were like any other, but when you looked closer, their stem centers were thinly wrapped Oreos.

  I laughed.

  “Spencer, they’re perfect.” I set them on the dresser, “thank you.”

  He shrugged, his eyes trained on me.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He said nothing else, only stood and stared at me, hands in his pockets.

  Confused, I asked,

  “Is there something wrong?”

  He shook his head, his eyes losing their distracted glaze. “No, I was just trying to figure out how I managed to find a gorgeous woman like you.”

  I ducked my head. I can’t handle complements. Spencer laughed at my reaction, “Okay. That sounded cheesy.”

  “No,” I disagreed, “it was nice.”

  He looked pleased. “Well, I meant it.”

  He stepped toward me, with ‘the look’ in his eyes. I put a hand up to halt his pursuit.

  “Nuh-uh, it took me an hour to wash, condition and detangle this mess.” I pointed to my hair, “then I had to braid it, tie it up and carefully unbraid it this morning,”

  Spencer looked at me as if I were speaking another language. I clarified, “You. Are. Not. Messing. Up. My. Hair.”