by Frankie Love
It’s hard not to think about the last Valentine’s Day dance I attended in this hall, the one that I shared with Baxter in our senior year. Swaying with him under the glittering lights, feeling like I was in a romance novel and could have stayed in its pages for the rest of my life. I never wanted it to end. His arms around me, the smell of his aftershave, the way he looked in his suit...
I take a sip of my drink, the cheap punch that’s been mixed up by the reunion organizers, and I turn to look across the gym. And that is, of course, when I see him.
Time stills.
I swear that the music stops.
I am sure, for an instant, that I am imagining this. He can’t be here. Can he?
But I know that it’s him. Baxter Ryder. Ten years later. Dressed in a lean-fitting suit, hair cropped short, showing off his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. His eyes find mine, and I feel the soles of my feet prickle. He is as hot as ever. Maybe even hotter. I can feel my cheeks starting to flush, and I know that everyone here is looking at me. That everyone here is wondering how I am going to react.
And honestly, I have no idea. I realize that I am holding my breath, and I break eye contact with him, turn away. I can’t do this. Not right now.
I put down the paper cup that I have been drinking from and hurry towards the bathroom. I just need a second.
Because if I keep looking at him any longer, I am not going to be able to keep my head on straight.
4
Baxter
I see her.
It feels as though a lifetime has passed since I last saw her, but there she is. As gorgeous as ever. Talking with some of her old cheerleader friends, her shoulder-length blonde hair brushing her bare skin where her dress exposes a few inches here and there. It shows a generous amount of cleavage, her muscular, toned body still as gorgeous as ever.
And she sees me.
As soon as our eyes lock, I know that she is as confused as I am right now. There’s so much that I want to say to her, and I have no idea where the hell I am going to start.
The way she is looking at me right now, that doubt and confusion in her eyes, reminds me of the spring break before we finished high school. Lying on my cousin’s boat, staring at the clear blue sky above us, her head on my chest as I toyed with her hair and tried not to think about how damn sexy she looked in that bikini. Both of us had turned eighteen in the last couple of months, and we were getting to that point where we had to talk about what came after high school.
She had been accepted, the week before, on a full ride to the University of Colorado. I always knew that she was destined to get out and do something amazing, and I couldn’t have been more damn proud of her if I tried. But still – still, there was a part of me that knew what she was going to ask before she came out with it.
"What are you going to do?” she asked, trailing her fingers lazily over my chest.
"What do you mean?”
"You know what I mean," she replied, rolling her eyes at me playfully. "After high school. Where are you going to go?”
I didn’t reply for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she expected me to say. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I knew that she might not have believed me, even if I did. I had to keep it under wraps. For then. Maybe forever.
"I don’t know," I lied. "I haven’t decided yet."
"Well, you’re going to have to get there soon," she teased me lightly. "You’re going to get left behind if you don’t get a move on."
"I’ll figure it out," I replied vaguely. I knew she wasn’t going to take that for an answer. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked at me, her ponytail bouncing in the sunlight behind her.
"You should apply for some writing courses," she remarked. "You’re so good with that stuff. You could totally get into a university to study it."
"Yeah, maybe."
"You know you could," she remarked, and she eyed me – there was that look, the confusion, the doubt. I loved her, but there were things that I couldn’t tell her, and she was too smart not to notice it.
I tucked my hand behind her head and drew her in close to me, so close that our lips were almost touching. I could feel her breath coming a little faster and I brushed my nose against hers.
"I’m so proud of you," I murmured, and I closed the distance between us, kissed her properly. She sank into the kiss, letting her hands roam across my bare chest. The feeling of her skin against mine was enough to light up something in my chest, and I pulled her top of me.
She wound her arms around me and held me tight, and I gripped her waist as I kissed her hard. Her tongue met mine, and that fire that burned in my belly whenever we were close to each other lit up, came to life for good. I moved my hand to her hair, holding it tight, and she let out the softest little moan against my lips, telling me that she wanted this, that she wanted this as badly as I did...
And then, she pulled back, smiling at me. She knew what was on my mind. Same thing that was on hers.
"Prom night," she murmured softly. "Remember?”
"I remember," I groaned, wrapping my arms around her and letting her rest her head on my shoulder. It wasn’t that much longer to wait, but in that moment, it felt like a lifetime.
And it feels like a lifetime has passed again in the time since I last saw her.
Now, she hurries out of the hall, and I find myself moving after her before I can think twice about it. I know that she likely doesn’t want to see me right now, but I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
I can feel eyes on me. I don’t care. I am here to talk to one person and I am not leaving until I do.
Outside of the hall, it feels quiet – too quiet. I look around, trying to work out where she might have gone. And then, I hear footsteps around the corner and follow them.
And there she is. Bailey. Standing next to our old block of lockers, facing away from me, her head tilted down, like she’s catching her breath. I take a step towards her, reach out to touch her back.
She spins around at once, her eyes widening as they land on me. Her lips part, and it takes everything I have not to kiss her in that moment.
But I hold back. And she only has one thing to ask me.
"Why?”
5
Bailey
Standing this close to him again makes my heart hurt, my head spin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that we went through, and how much I wish I could just forget all the ways that he hurt me and let myself melt against him once more.
"Why what?" he asks me.
I snort, not amused. "You know what I’m asking," I shoot back. " What happened?"
He looks away from me. I know that he is trying to come up with an answer. And suddenly, everything that I have been trying to contain all this time suddenly comes flooding out of me.
"Why did you leave?" I blurt out. "Why did you go? You said you were in love with me. And then you – and then you vanished off the face of the earth, and I didn’t hear a damn word from you. Do you know how that made me feel? After I – after we..."
My mind is rushing through all the memories that we made together, so fast I can hardly get a handle on them. But, as we stand here in this hall again, I am reminded of the last night that we spent together – the night that we had our prom, when we were crowned king and queen, and everything felt like it was starting to come together.
He had pushed me against these lockers to kiss me before we reached his car, and I had gripped onto his suit jacket and pulled him close to me. I knew what we were both waiting for, what we had been waiting for this entire night. We had agreed on it months ago, to save ourselves for after prom, for this moment. I smiled into the kiss, feeling the excitement stirring inside of me. Knowing that I couldn't wait any longer. This night was going to be the first of the rest of our lives, and I wanted to remember every moment of it.
We had snuck out of the dance a few songs early to go to his car, and he opened the door for me, sliding his hand over the soft peony-blue of my
dress as he did so.
"You look so gorgeous in this," he murmured as he joined me, leaning over to kiss me again. I touched the corsage on his lapel.
"So do you," I replied, biting my lip. I could see his eyes shining with excitement as he looked at me, ready to take me, ready to do this at last.
He drove us out to Lover’s Point just outside of Sweetheart, a spot that overlooked the glimmering lights of the town below. He took my hand, brought it to his lips, planted a kiss on my knuckles.
"You ready to do this?" he asked me. And I knew that if, in that moment, I had told him that I wasn’t ready, that I wanted to wait, he would have accepted it. He never would have pushed me, never have made me do anything I didn’t want to. But instead, I leaned over and kissed him again.
"I’m ready," I murmured.
He guided me into the back seat of the car, where he had laid out these soft, warm blankets for us, and he gently laid me down and moved on top of me. It was amazing to me, how such a strong, powerful man could be so gentle when he needed to be.
His hands moved over my body like he was worshipping it, slowly easing the dress off my shoulders, covering every inch of skin that he revealed with kisses. I watched him as he went, trying to really wrap my head around the fact that he was mine – that he had waited for me and that now the two of us were finally doing this.
I pushed off his jacket and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt; he brushed my hands away and undid them himself, kissing me softly as he did so. His hand traced down my body, pushing up the skirt of my dress, cupping his hand between my legs.
"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this," he moaned softly into my ear. His words stirred something in me, something urgent, something that I had been trying to ignore for far too long. I turned my head to kiss him again, and wrapped my legs around him, pulling him down on top of me so that I could feel his hardness through his pants.
But this time, we weren’t going to stop. We weren’t going to hold back. We were going to do this. And, as he quickly sheathed himself with a condom, I listened to the pitter-patter of rain on the window outside and smiled. This was perfect. Totally and utterly perfect.
He eased my knees apart, and kissed my inner thighs. “I need to touch you, first, Bailey. I don’t want to hurt you.”
We had fooled around, but not like this. Not with my body so bare, his fingers so close to my core. He began to finger me, whispering how much he loved me as he did.
“Oh, God, Bax… oh…”
He smiled down at me. “You like that, Bai?”
My throat was dry and I bit down on my bottom lip, nodding. “I like it so much.”
“Good, I need to open you up some more, you understand?”
I nodded, my breasts bouncing as he began to finger me more deeply, more fully. Until I was rocking hard against his hand, his mouth lowering, tasting how wet I was. Wet for him.
“Oh, God, Bax, I’m gonna … I’m…” I squeezed my eyes shut as the most delicious orgasm ran through me. I’d touched myself plenty, but it never felt like this. Never so deep. So desperate. So complete.
I clung to him. “I need more,” I whispered. “I need you, inside of me.”
He kissed my lips, and I dissolved against him. “God, you are exquisite,” he said, running his hands over my bare breasts, cupping my wet pussy. He pulled me close as he moved against me for the first time, and I bit my lip and tried to prepare myself for the sensation of being with him fully at last.
He kissed my neck as he eased himself into me, going slow, letting me get used to the sensation.
I thought it would hurt, but, after a moment of shock at the newness of it, it mellowed into something sweet – something good. Something that made every part of me feel alive. I felt my breath start to grow ragged and I moved against him, letting myself get lost to it, to this new feeling. And I knew, I knew that I would never have this with anyone else. This was for me and him and nobody else, and the intimacy of knowing that made my heart full.
Now, in the hall of the school, the class reunion in full swing in the gym, I look at the man Baxter has turned into. His eyes are darker, like he’s seen shadows, but they still search mine, looking into my depths, seeing my soul.
"I missed you," I murmur to him, back at the school, next to our lockers. It’s not enough to sum up everything that I have felt since the last time we saw one another, but it is as close as I am able to come right now without crying.
He reaches out, catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His eyes search mine, full of apology. But I don’t want apology. I want an explanation.
"I missed you, too," he replies. "So much. So much, Bailey..."
He pulls me against him, and I want to tug myself away. I don’t want to make this so easy for him, but in truth, it feels far too good not to let this happen. He smells the same as he always did. Masculine. Strong. Comforting.
His arms feel so good around me that it’s hard to think about anything else. Even the fact that I am supposed to be mad at him right now. I know that I should pull away, but I don’t want this to end. How many times since he left have I imagined this? I can’t even count. But now I am here, and the thought of ruining it seems impossible.
I look up at him, and his eyes are soft, yielding. They flick down to my mouth for the barest second and I forget everything. All I want is to feel his lips against mine once more. My eyes begin to drift shut, and before I know it, I am pulling closer to him...
But, at the last moment, I come to my senses. Remind myself that I am still mad at him. And pull myself out of his arms.
"You need to tell me the truth," I warn him. "Once and for all. I’m not willing to wait anymore. You understand me?”
And, as I glare at him, I know that he wants to kiss me, too. More than anything in the world.
But that’s going to have to wait until he can be honest with me about what happened all those years ago.
6
Baxter
I can almost taste her lips on mine, she was so close to me. And I want nothing more than to kiss her properly, to feel her sweet mouth against mine and for us to forget everything that has happened in the last ten years.
But I can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s not going to back down. She was never the girl who just rolled over and took anything that you threw at her, and it’s clear that she hasn’t changed much since high school.
I wonder what else has changed. Has she been with other men? Maybe she has a boyfriend now. I have no idea. The thought of it sends a spur of anger through me. Even after all this time, after everything that we have been through, I still think of her as mine.
"I need to know what happened," she pleads with me softly. A few feet away, I can hear everyone in the hall, probably all gossiping about us.
"Let’s go for a walk," I suggest, offering her my hand. After a moment, she takes it, and allows me lead her towards the football stands.
It’s cold out here, still early enough in the year that the warmth of spring hasn’t washed out the cold of winter, and I put my jacket around her shoulders when I notice her shivering.
"I don’t need that," she protests, but I shake my head.
"Yes, you do," I reply, and she doesn’t argue. She plants herself down on the bottom of the bleachers and I join her. We’re sitting so close our knees are almost touching.
"You remember the first game you played here?" she asks me.
"I remember you cheering for me," I reply. It’s the truth. Most of what I remember from my time in Sweetheart revolves around her. Much as I wish it didn’t. She smiles, and I wonder if she thinks I’m kidding her.
"Would you have done it differently?" she asks me suddenly. I look over at her.
"What do you mean?"
"If you had known how much it was going to hurt when you left," she explains. "Would you have done it differently, do you think?”
"I would never have passed up the chance to love you," I reply
bluntly. She tugs my jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. "Would you?" I ask her. "Would you have done it differently? If you had known what was going to happen?”
"I don’t know," she confesses. "It depends why you left in the first place. That’s what I don’t understand. And that’s what’s been driving me crazy all these years."
I look at her, deep into her eyes. There are a few lights on in the parking lot across the field, and they are enough to light up her face. I can see so many questions in there, so many questions that I have failed to answer. I don’t even know where I am meant to start.
So I decide that I’ll try starting with the truth.
I take a deep breath and reach out for her hand. I half expect her to pull it away, but she doesn’t. She eyes me, curious, waiting.
"I wasn’t meant to get attached to this place," I admit. "I...when I came here, it was because my father wanted me to have a year of normal life. Something that I could hang onto after I went back to him, and after I became a part of the family business for good."
"The family business?" she asks. I nod. I have avoided talking to her about this side of things as much as I could, but it looks as though there is no way for me to avoid it now.
"My father," I reply. "He runs – he runs a cartel."
I let the words hang in the air between us, waiting for her to react. She stares at me.
"Then how the hell did you end up in Sweetheart?” she blurts out.
"My father sent me here, from Boulder," I explain. "One last year of normality before he took me on for good. I wanted to get down to business with him, but at the same time, I knew that before I did, I needed to know what everyone else got to experience."
"So you were always going to leave?" she asks softly. I nod.
"I didn’t want to tell you anything," I confess. "I knew that you wouldn’t let me go, and there was no way that I was going to let what I was involved in get in the way of you living your life. You had a whole plan in front of you, I didn’t want to mess that up..."
