by Kira Adams
I have a feeling he is asking me more so for himself so he doesn’t have to spend the time awkwardly with his father and his father’s new boyfriend, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s been years since we’ve had the chance to experience Thanksgiving to its fullest, and I’m sure Rose and Wes would love to get out of the house for a bit.
Deal. But you have to pick us up.
His response is fast. Oh, but of course.
I put the phone down and smile to myself. I’m glad things aren’t awkward between us. I’m happy I get to spend the holiday with someone I care about.
23
“You’re never going to be able to get them to leave this room, you know that, right?” Ciera whispers as we watch her younger siblings enjoying a competitive game of air hockey in my family’s game room.
I shrug. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
She glances back at them once more before following me up the stairs and into my bedroom. As we enter my room, her eyes scan it, taking in every little detail.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’ve never been up here before,” I say as I head straight for my closet.
Ciera’s eyes are big and wide as she continues to gawk. “Your room is bigger than our apartment.”
“No it’s not.” I chuckle.
“Okay, maybe not, but it’s damn near close.”
I always forget how impressive our house is because I live here. It would be different if I hadn’t grown up accustomed to fancy things.
I open my closet door and pull out the Nordstrom bag, handing it to her.
“What is this?” she asks, curiously eyeing the garment bag.
“Open it.” I motion with my head.
She lays it down on my bed and begins to unzip the black bag. I’m watching her eyes; I want to make sure she likes it. The expression that overtakes her face tells me I did well.
“Do you like it?” I ask anyway.
She looks at me with wide eyes and then back to the dress. It’s dark silver with rhinestones and gems all over it. It has layers like a flapper dress but is more elegant, sophisticated. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of her size, so I was beyond thankful when Madalynne agreed to accompany me dress hunting.
She pulls the dress out of the bag gently, admiring it. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you could wear it to the winter formal next week,” I say.
She keeps looking between me and the dress. “I can’t accept this. This had to have cost you a fortune.”
I laugh. “It definitely wasn’t cheap, but you know more than anyone that we can afford it.”
She sighs, running her fingers along the intricate design. “I don’t know what to say.”
I break into a grin. “Normally when people receive a gift, they say thank you.”
Her sapphire eyes lock onto mine, and she holds the gaze for a few moments. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to a dance,” she says as she zips the dress back up inside the garment bag.
“Why is that?”
She shrugs. “No one has ever asked me before.”
Her words make me sad. “I’m happy I get to be the first guy.”
She smiles back at me, but it’s dejected. “The only guy.”
“Shhh.” I hold my finger up to my lips. “Today is a day we are thankful, not depressed. We can resume our normal attitudes tomorrow, but today we should be positive.”
She nods, but I can already see the tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. “This is my last Thanksgiving.” She drops to her knees, breathing in deeply.
I crouch down beside her. “Well I for one am happy you are spending it with me.” I lift her chin up gently so we are looking into each other’s eyes. Tears are streaming down her face. “I am so thankful I met you. I mean, I knew you, but I am so thankful I met the real you.”
She nods slightly, avoiding my gaze.
I kiss the tears trailing down her face, stopping them in their tracks.
“Topher…” she says softly.
“I know, I know,” I say, backing away. “We can’t. But that doesn’t mean I feel any differently about you. I’m sorry I can’t flip a switch on my feelings so easily.”
She sighs, her whole body shaking from her emotions. “I wish I would have met you in another life.”
I run my finger along her cheek, catching another tear. “Me too.”
The doorbell chimes, interrupting our moment.
“That must be Clarke,” I grumble.
Ciera arches her eyebrow at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m not always going to be here to be the buffer for you, you know,” she states, standing up.
We hear the door being opened downstairs and can now faintly hear my father greeting Clarke.
“I know,” I reply, standing as well.
“There is nothing wrong with the way he’s wired. You’re going to have to accept that,” she scolds.
I roll my eyes, irritated. “I just don’t understand how anyone could choose to live like that.” I begin to walk out of my room when she grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Hold up. You think this is a choice he is making?”
“Of course it is,” I huff.
“See, that’s where you’re so wrong. If being gay were a choice, do you really think there would be as many same sex couples in the world as there are? No one chooses to be gay. They just are.”
I ponder her statement for a moment. I’ve never thought of it that way. Maybe she’s right.
“You need to go easier on your father. He needs you. He loves you, and after I’m gone—”
I can’t let her finish. Even though I know she’s dying, I haven’t accepted the fact yet. I guess part of me still wants to believe it’s all just a cruel joke. “Don’t, please. I don’t want to think about that.”
“You’re going to have to come to terms with it sooner or later,” she says softly.
I nod. “And I will…when I’m ready. But today is Thanksgiving, and we have family we should be spending it with.”
She sighs. “Alright, let’s go.”
The week flashes by, and before I know it, it’s the day of the winter formal. I talked Madalynne and Parker into chipping in for a limo along with Kendall and Dylan, and I knew it would give Ciera an excuse to have some girls to get ready with. I want her to be able to experience a dance in its entirety.
I spend the day hanging out with the guys playing video games in my game room until close to four o’clock.
“When are the girls getting here?” Dylan asks as he slips his suit jacket on.
I look at the clock on the wall. “Within half an hour. They know our reservation is at five.”
My father was able to pull some strings and reserve us a table in the chef’s private quarters of Davinci’s. I know the whole group is going to be excited about the setup.
The girls arrive sooner than expected, Madalynne in a red glittery dress and Kendall in a blue one. Ciera is the third person through the door, and my heart goes into overdrive as I drink her in. The dress hugs her in all the right places. Her curves are accentuated and her tits are front and center, demanding my attention. Her hair is curled into wild curls, and she has a white lily pinning her hair to one side. Her makeup is light and airy, emphasizing her natural beauty.
She touches her hair uncomfortably. “You’re staring.”
I break my gaze and chuckle. “I’m sorry. You look…”
“Maddy did a good job. You should be thanking her,” she insists.
“You ready to go?” I address the question to the entire group.
“Wait!” Kendall squeals. “We need picture proof!”
Twenty minutes later, after the girls have had their fun, we are finally out the door and into the limo for the evening. I notice a couple of bottles of champagne chilling inside.
I pick one up and read a sticky note attached to it. “Enjoy y
ourselves. I’m proud to call you my son. Love, Dad.”
“Shit!” Dylan exclaims, grabbing the bottle from me and examining it. “Let’s pop this shit!”
Within minutes, we are all toasting to the amazing evening that is about to come.
Ciera squeezes my arm lightly. “There goes number twenty on my list.”
I smile at her, but then the sadness hits me. She’s only pursuing this list because she’s running out of time. I wish I hadn’t been such an arrogant asshole for so long. Maybe then I could have had more time with her.
We arrive at the dance, and the auditorium is decorated in snowflakes, fake snow, a lot of glitter, and white balloons. Ciera’s eyes widen as she takes everything in. I’ve been to my share of school dances, but nothing has ever compared to this. It’s an incredible feeling being able to live vicariously through someone. The smallest things excite her, and I love being able to witness it all.
At first, we stay seated at our table for quite a few songs, simply watching the action. Neither of us dance, so it seems safer this way, less injuries, but I can tell she wants to be out there, among our peers. So when Sam Smith’s hit song “Stay with Me” begins to play, I finally grab her hand and pull her out into the middle of the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” she asks nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the full dance floor.
“I’m dancing with you. You didn’t expect to watch from the sidelines all night, did you?” I stick my tongue out at her then pull her in close.
“I’ve never danced before,” she whispers under her breath.
“It’s easy. Just try not to step on my feet, and I will do the same.” I give her hip a reassuring squeeze and wait as she puts her hands on my shoulders. “What are we, middle schoolers?” I tease, pulling her in even closer. “Put your hands around my neck.”
She does as she’s told, and we’re so close I can feel her erratically beating heart.
“You nervous?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
She swallows, nodding.
“Just focus on me. It’s just you and me, dancing.”
She takes my advice, and soon enough, she rests her head on my shoulder. Everything feels right about our embrace. Our bodies mold so perfectly with one another.
I catch a glimpse of Sophia and Joe across the crowded room, but the normal annoyance I usually feel from simply seeing them isn’t there tonight. Tonight is only about Ciera and me. After the song ends and we exit the dance floor, she seems ready for anything.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
She looks at me and then back at the group we arrived with. “What about the others?”
“I can send the limo back to pick them up when they’re ready.”
“Okay,” she says.
We’ve been at the dance for a good hour and a half, and now I want to spend some alone time with her, without the eyes of our peers dissecting every move we make.
“Where to now?” the limo driver asks.
“Bush Park,” I answer.
Less than twenty minutes later, we are seated on the trunk of the limo, gazing up at the starry night sky. I wrap my black suit jacket around Ciera’s shoulders to keep her warm.
“If time weren’t an obstacle, what would you be doing after graduation?”
She inhales deeply, digesting my question. “I would go to college to become a writer.”
I look over at her, the moonlight glistening over her face. “What kind of books would you write?”
She giggles. “That’s embarrassing.”
I nudge her with my shoulder lightly. “Becoming a writer is not embarrassing…tell me.”
She bites her bottom lip nervously before breaking. “Romance novels.”
My eyes shoot up. “Oh, really?”
She nods slowly. “I love how romance authors can make you feel every emotion in their books, and you feel invested in the characters. By the end of the story, you feel as if you know them on some kind of a personal level, and you mourn the loss of them when it’s over.”
The way she speaks about it is so powerful. “You still have more than two months—why don’t you spend some time writing?”
Her cheeks flush. “I’ve never tried before. Who’s to say I could even finish it in time?”
I throw my arm around her and rub her arm. “You won’t know unless you try.”
She shifts her eyes to meet mine. “I guess. It is something on my list.”
“There ya go. You need to check it off.”
She continues to nibble on her bottom lip, and I can’t take it anymore. I know she said we need to take a step back, but right now, in this moment, I can’t for the life of me remember why. Not when things feel so right with her.
I slide my arm off her shoulder and brush the back of my hand gently across her cheek. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”
Her face falls. “You know we can’t.”
I continue my stare-down with her. “Who says so? I mean is it an actual law or do you not want to kiss me?”
She shakes her head dismissively. “You know it’s not that easy.”
“Who says it can’t be?” I ask. “I want to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?”
“Topher,” she says gently, once again taking her bottom lip between her teeth.
I place my mouth right by her ear and whisper, “Kiss me.”
I can feel her shudder, but she doesn’t move.
“Kiss me,” I order again, but this time I let my hot breath trail down her neck, and I watch in fascination as bumps rise across her skin.
“Topher,” she says, softer this time. I can tell she’s losing her resolve.
I press my lips gently to her neck, and I hear her moan softly. She doesn’t ask me to stop.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she says so softly I have to strain to hear every word.
I pull back, looking deeply into her blue eyes. “Stop fighting it.” I move my lips within inches of hers. If she says a word, our lips will graze against one another. I hear her gasp lightly.
“We shouldn’t,” she says, but her mouth does the complete opposite. She presses her lips upon mine gently, and once I know I’ve gotten the okay, I kiss her with everything I have. I slide my tongue slowly across her lips until she opens up and allows me access inside, until our tongues meet in a sensual dance. I slip my hand behind her head, into her hair, massaging lightly with my fingers.
She is pulling me in closer, and I am obeying her every command. I move my lips to the base of her neck and kiss her passionately, my dick growing hard when she sighs.
She pulls away quickly, and I fear she’s going to push me away again, but she surprises me. “Did you see that?”
I tear my eyes off her face to where she’s pointing at in the sky. “No.”
“It was a shooting star! That was number eight on my list.”
I smile back at her. “Wait…were you kissing me with your eyes open?”
Her cheeks grow red. “I was trying to commit this moment to memory…commit you to memory.”
I run my hands softly over her hair again, kissing her forehead. “I can’t go back to just being friends with you. Not now.”
She nods slightly. “I know.”
“I want to kiss you as much as I can for the next couple of months, and if I want to hold your hand, I don’t want to have to ask permission.”
She looks deeply into my eyes. “Topher, I know.”
“What?” I ask, utterly confused. “So you don’t want to keep your distance anymore?”
She puts her hand lightly on my heart. “I don’t think I can…not when I feel as strongly about you as I do.”
I cover her hand with mine. “Good, because I plan to spoil you as much as humanly possible.”
She giggles. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I reply. “But I want to.” And then I lower my lips to her
s again and again.
Rage is spilling out of every orifice of my body. Ciera is dying and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I don’t even realize where I’m headed until I’m barreling out of my car, headed straight for the familiar gray door. My footsteps are heavy on the pavement, my breathing uneven. I pound on the door roughly, unsure of what I’m even doing here.
I see Joe’s familiar frame through the stained glass window, and he opens up the door, a confused yet intimidated look on his face. He’s not sure why I’m here either.
“Topher?” he says, more as a question.
No more words have the chance to leave his lips before my fist meets his face and he pulls back from the collision.
“What the fuck?” he screams, puffing his chest out. He is ready to fight.
“Stay the fuck away from Ciera,” I warn him. “You and your whore.”
He rushes at me, but I manage to dodge him just in time. He goes flying out the front door and falls down the stairs. He gets up quickly, but he’s unsteady on his feet, his fists in front of his face. “What has gotten into you?” he asks angrily.
“Nothing. I just woke up. I realized what a joke it was hanging out with lowlife people like you and I wised up. But I’m warning you, if you go near her again, I’ll kill you,” I threaten, my face stone cold.
“It’s your suicide,” Joe replies, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, well at least I know I can live with myself after all is said and done. You’re a bully, Joe, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his.
“She’s trash, Topher. When are you going to wise up and realize it?” he asks huffily.
I spin around quickly. “I’d watch your mouth when you’re around me. I wouldn’t want a broken jaw to come between you and your beloved football.”
He cocks his head, unsure if I’m threatening him or not.
“Get the fuck off my property,” he warns.
“Gladly,” I reply, shuffling back to my car.
If nothing ever comes of this and he doesn’t heed my advice, at least I got to punch the asshole again.
