Blinded by You

by Terri E. Laine

  “Yes. And trust me.” He gets to his feet. “You should keep your foot elevated for a while. Call me if you need help getting undressed and into bed.”

  Waggling his eyebrows, he winks at me. I smile, enjoying our playful banter. Though, as he leaves, I’m left a little depressed that he offered to set me up and not take me out himself.

  Ten

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I wonder for the millionth time if I look okay. I’m meeting my date at a five-star restaurant downtown, owned by a celebrated and nationally known chef. I’ve never been there, but I hear getting a reservation takes some doing. That only makes me more curious about the mystery man I’m meeting tonight.

  My week has flown by, and I’ve gotten back to routine. Joel and I work out every morning and have eased back into our previous friendship. He’s been close-lipped about my date, only promising I’ll enjoy myself if I give the guy a chance.

  “I wish I could be there,” Amelia says on the other end of the phone. “Text me a selfie.”

  “Give me a minute.” I do as she asked.

  “Oh shit, I’m not going to get it while we’re on the phone.”

  “It’s okay. My Uber will be here soon, so there’s no changing now.”

  “I’m sure you look great.”

  “I hope so.” Though I don’t feel the excitement I should.

  “You could have called Madame Zelda. She hit the nail on the head with Paul.”

  I’ve considered just that, waffling on whether I want to know my future if she’s the real deal. Time has made the decision for me, as my date is tonight.

  “Maybe next time,” I say.

  “So you’re already assuming this guy isn’t going to be the one.”

  Not when one lives across the hall, and I’m too afraid to go out with him because of our age difference.

  “I’m not holding my breath. Paul was great, and look where that got me.”

  “You’re lucky you met the little twat. She showed you her dad’s bad side. Yes, I get that he was concerned about his daughter. But he didn’t even give you five seconds to worry about your well-being. He left you on his doorstep to fend for yourself. No wonder he’s divorced.”

  My phone chimes. I glance at the screen before putting it back to my ear. “You’re right. But I’ve got to go. My Uber’s here. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “You better, or I’m sending out a search party. Just in case, take a picture of the guy and send it to me. In fact, ask your waiter to hold on to his empty glass in case we need his prints.”

  I laugh. “I love you, Amelia. But you worry too much.”

  Zooming down M Street and onto Massachusetts Avenue, nerves start to get the better of me. What kind of man does Joel know? How does he know my date?

  We make it to our destination, and I get out and stare at the awning before my gaze falls on the doorman, who looks amused.

  “Evening, ma’am.” He tips his hat. “Can I help you?”

  Embarrassed, I walk over to him. “I’m meeting someone here tonight.”

  “I see. Are you having second thoughts?”

  I take a moment to think about that. Then it hits me. This is what I wanted, to explore my options. Dating isn’t only to meet a future significant other. It’s also about learning who I am and what I want.

  “No, actually.” I smile. “Tonight’s going to be great.”

  The older man grins at me and opens the door. I cross the threshold and clear my head of any doubts. I confidently walk to the hostess station.

  “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” the woman in all black asks.

  Joel told me that my date had put it under my name to make it easier for me.

  “Yes, it’s under Olivia Cole.”

  She checks her screen. “Yes, your other party has arrived. Let me take you to your seat.”

  The dark wood and low lighting make it hard to focus on the faces I pass. The tall, slender woman before me blocks my view ahead. I rub my hands on the sides of my dress, trying to stave off any potential for sweaty hands when I greet my date.

  She stops at a small round table for two. The man’s back is to me. “Here you are.” She waves at the chair like she’s a model on the The Price Is Right.

  After she leaves, I’m about to sit, when my date stands. Apparently, he’s prepared to do the gentleman thing and help me get seated. When he turns, I lose my breath.

  He takes my hand from where I’ve covered my mouth.

  “Don’t think too much. Just enjoy the evening.”

  Then he leans in and kisses me softly on my lips. If I weren’t so stunned, I might melt. But as it is, I barely realize he’s taken my hand to guide me to my chair. I sit, still overcome with so many emotions I can barely think.

  “Wine?” a waiter asks, coming up so silently I might have jumped.

  However, I still haven’t gotten over how tonight is shaping up. I nod vigorously, knowing I’m going to need a few bottles just to survive the shock.

  I gulp down my first glass.

  “You’re overthinking this. You want to date, and I get that. But I also know I’m not going to let you go without a fight.”

  “But, Joel—”

  “You have to have known I’ve crushed on you since the day you moved in. I’ve done my best to just be your friend like you’ve wanted, until that night you let me have you. Now that I’ve had a taste…”

  “What about your date with Cara?”

  “What about her?

  “I heard her. You brought her home.”

  “It isn’t what you think. I took her out like you wanted. Maybe I was trying to prove something to both of us. I took her to a place in Georgetown near our apartment. After, she wanted to walk off all the alcohol she’d consumed. The whole time, all I could think about was you. Which is why when she said she needed a restroom, I realized where I’d been heading—to you. After she did her thing, I called her a cab and sent her home. Nothing happened, I swear.”

  And I believe him.

  “Not even a kiss goodnight?” I clarify.

  He shakes his head. “I paid the driver in advance and had her call me to make sure she got there.”

  His smile tells me he remembers how I felt about that, based on my recent date with Paul. And that’s the thing—he gets me.

  The waiter leaves with our orders. Though Joel and I have shared many meals together, he doesn’t order for me.

  “Corey wants me back,” I blurt out.

  “And what do you want?”

  “Time,” I say. “I told him I needed time.”

  “How long?”

  His question mirrors my ex’s. “A year, maybe more or less.”

  “Good. That gives me enough time.”

  “For what?” I lift my glass, ready to swallow the entire amount.

  “For me to prove to you that I’m in love with you, and I’m the best man for you.”

  I do drink it all without taking a breath. A warmth spreads through my limbs as I fight for calm and reason. Surely he can’t love me, and even if he does, how do I know what I feel for him is real when my only comparison is Corey?

  “I need to date other people.” Running off at the mouth, I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Our dinner arrives, and he waits until the waiter is gone before he speaks.

  “That’s cool. Like I said before, I get it. You can go ahead and date, but no one else gets in your bed but me.” My jaw drops. “The idea of another man touching you makes me want to murder him.”

  “But what if I want to sleep with someone else?” I ask, not even sure of my own question.

  “Then you’ll have your answer, and I’ll let you go.”

  The idea makes me want to commit mental suicide. So what am I doing?

  “There is just one thing I want you to do first,” I say.

  After dinner, we end up in front of a locked door that he proceeds to unlock.

  “You have keys
?”

  His baby blues land on me with amusement. “Yes, that happens when you’re part owner.”

  I remember him telling me that before. We slip inside the parlor, and he locks the door behind us. We navigate the front by the moonlight flowing from the window. To one side of the large room, he flips a switch on a lamp that only illuminates the area around us. He sits on a small round seat with wheels and rests his arms on his knees and his chin on his fist.

  “Show me.”

  This man has seen me at my worst, and hopefully at my best tonight. Still, I feel self-conscious as I play with the hem of my dress for a second.

  “Don’t judge. I was drunk.” I pause, rethinking my plan.

  He chuckles. “I like you drunk. That’s how I got to see you naked.”

  Yes, he’s seen all my curves on top of curves. So I push up the fabric slowly, wondering how he could find me sexy with thighs that touch when I’m standing and hips that jut out a little too far.

  “Jesus,” he whispers when my thong is revealed. “Your ass is perfect.”

  “But you can’t see my ass right now.”

  He stares at me with a drunken grin, though he hasn’t had that much to drink. I’m the one trying not to fall as I stand upright.

  “My imagination is good enough, as I’ve seen that ass,” he says reverently like he remembers it fondly.

  Not knowing how to answer, I reveal the tattoo I’d gotten on my birthday.

  His reaction is to howl in laughter. I move to stand before him. His hands instantly grip my thighs, and he stops chuckling.

  “Playing with fire, aren’t you?” I shrug, enjoying the power to gain his utter attention. “Well, I can fix this.” His hands take over, holding up my dress, rubbing a finger over the tattoo. “Since it’s inked in red, I can easily fill it in and cover up the words sperm bank.”

  There is amusement in his voice, but it had gone husky and dark.

  “What about the arrow?”

  It points to my vagina. Damn Ella.

  “I can fix it. Do you trust me?”

  Joel is an artist. His apartment should be a gallery. He’s talented and sees beauty in ordinary things, making works of art that are museum worthy. He draws, paints, and even sculpts. But his passion lies in drawing with pencil and ink.

  He gets me in the chair and tilts it back until I’m flat. He unwraps a sanitized needle before he scoots over. Getting his tools ready, he explains what he’s about to do. His breath fans over the lace that covers my center, and I squirm.

  “You’re going to have to keep still.”

  “I want—”

  He licks his lips. “I want it too. And I will.” He easily breaks the thin strap on my thong. “You won’t be needing this. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

  That does nothing to keep me still. His hand moves to my center. I’m so fucking wet, his finger slips easily inside of me.

  “Is this what you need?”

  I nod, as incoherent words leave my mouth. It doesn’t take long. I’ve been on the edge since I first saw him at the restaurant. When he presses the heel of his palm on my nub, I explode. And when I come down, I’m boneless while riding the last of my tipsiness as he works on my tattoo.

  As he works, overruling the slight pain is my mind replaying what he said over and over again. He’s in love with me, but he’s going to let me date other people. That seems crazy. Then again, maybe that’s what twenty-somethings do nowadays. Can I watch him date other people?

  My eyes blink open in panic.

  “I’m done,” he says.

  I’d given him carte blanche. He angles a mirror, and I see he’s made the old tattoo into a heart. The dreaded words are gone, and the arrow pierces it. A new word is inked in black, and immediately I get its meaning. It’s almost empowering because it signifies that I own my sexuality and can make my own decisions.

  But then he growls, “Mine,” and the ink takes on new meaning.

  I don’t have time to think before he’s kissing me, covering my body with his. We wiggle out of our clothes, and he turns off the lamp. The chair is off to the side and hidden partially by a half wall. Someone would have to press their face to the glass to see us. Then again, with it so dark, clouds having muted the moonlight, they still might not be able to see us.

  Instead, I throw caution to the wind and go with his next words.

  “That’s my end game, you know?” he declares.

  “What?” Though I part of me hopes I know his answer.

  “To make you mine.”

  Mini Epilogue

  My sister bangs on the bathroom door.

  “Just a minute,” I call out with more strength than I feel.

  “You have to get out of there. Your boyfriend will be here any minute.”

  Amelia has invited Joel over for dinner. It will be the first time he’s officially meeting my family. Ella and Rog are on their way over as well.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I call out.

  I’ve stuck to my guns, and I’m trying to explore my options. Joel is being a good sport about it so far. He hates it, but says he owes it to me since he’s dated more people than I ever have. I’ve even gone to see Madame Zelda, just to make sure I’m doing the right thing, not that I’m a total believer in her yet.

  “Your fuck buddy, whatever. Cover your bits. I’m coming in.” She barges in the small room.

  Her eyes widen when she finds the state I’m in.

  “How long has this been going on?” she hurriedly asks.

  “I don’t know. All day, yesterday…”

  “Give me a minute.”

  She darts out the room with me calling after her, but she doesn’t answer me, only comes back in with a box.

  “You have these lying around.”

  She shrugs.

  “Darren and I are trying for another one.” My eyes surely pop out of their sockets. My sister has three rugrats already. “Just pee on the stick, and let’s see what it says.”

  I do, forcing my sister to turn around, and pray I don’t vomit again on the stick before I’m done.

  My sister, who I want to slug, finds it amusing to hum the Jeopardy! final question theme while we wait.

  “So?” she asks, assuming enough time has passed.

  I glance down and close my eyes for a second. “I’m pregnant.”

  >>>>>TO BE CONTINUED<<<<<

  CRAVING DRAGONFLIES PREVIEW

  (subject to change in final version)

  This is raw, uncut, and has not been edited. copyright 2018

  1 – Ashton

  Darkness covered me like a shroud and I was too paralyzed to end it. Gripped in memories where blackness meant pain or loneliness, I struggled for breath.

  Somewhere far off I heard my name, but my eyes were glued shut. I tried to pretend I made the light disappear on my own.

  But it was in the absent of light where the monsters live.

  My savior was gone and I had nothing more to live for.

  I’d been a pawn in someone’s game all my life.

  For the monster, I was blackmail, an exhibit in a legal document to force my father to pay.

  For the devil, I was the vessel for pain in his pleasure.

  For my savior, I was his disciple to rule.

  For me, I was no one.

  I thought again about death as an ending for my suffering.

  I had nothing left to live for.

  A hand on my arm jerked my eyes open. Light fills the room, but his touch was no longer welcome. It didn’t ease the pain it once had.

  “Ash,” Sawyer said.

  I didn’t turn to face him, because if I had I would only be lost again. And he’d made it clear, I wasn’t his to find.

  He was temptation, my ultimate self-destruction.

  I was nothing without him and nothing to him. He’d made that all too clear.

  “You don’t have to stay here. Come back home,” he said.

  Why? I w
anted to say. So I could listen to him be with someone else.

  No thank you. I was good here in the frat house where I could learn to live by myself or die on my own terms.

  “You’re not going to talk to me now?” he asked.

  No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I would no longer follow blindly in hopes that he would see me.

  “Please,” he begged.

  I closed my eyes knowing I would go back to that dark place. Locked away in my own prison of memories was better than his pity.

  He reached out again, fingertips grazing my arm. I pulled free, rolling away, curling into a ball.

  “Fuck Ash, don’t be this way.”

  Mentally, I shut him out and thought of all the ways I could end things.

  A blade, a pill, a drive, a gun… all too easy.

  My life had been hard, my ending should be harder.

  A door closed and I was alone again.

  This was my destiny and it was better for all if I not only honored it, but accepted it.

  Fate had only ever been a bitch to me, I didn’t expect anything less.

  2 – Willow

  Okay, kicking it hadn’t helped. The tire was still flat and I was going to be so late. I looked at the vile thing in my hands knowing any minute it would ring. Celeste was not going to be happy and I should curse my phone. It wasn’t its fault.

  The parking lot behind the building wasn’t empty, but it was filled with silent steel traps that in no way could help me until the air combusted with sound. An engine that meant to be heard roared into the area like a swarm of bees amplified.

  Black paint so shiny the sun reflected off in burst of starlight had me lift my hand to stave up the brightness.

  The boy that stepped out in the newly created silence when the engine died was a gift from heaven. I was pretty sure my jaw fell open as I stood holding a lug wrench that looked more like a cross as if I was warding him off.

  Tall with a short crop of curls that crowned him the prince he was he walked never once looking in my direction. I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t the prize my stepsister Celeste was.