by Julie Cannon
I suddenly realized I was angry for allowing these people to intimidate me and make me feel small and insignificant—again. I’m better than that now, and I was all those years ago. It’s just that my confidence was buried under one hundred and twenty-six extra pounds. Once I shed that, I shed my inhibitions and vowed I would never go back to that dark, lonely place again. I stood up a little taller.
Movement to my right caught my eye just before I heard someone say, “Kiersten, so good to see you again.”
While the mystery woman was looking at Tobin, I sneaked a peek at her badge.
“Francie, how are you?” I asked politely. Francie had driven me to school my junior year, but I was just a paid member of her car pool, not one of her besties.
“I’m good,” she answered, trying real hard to look at me when she answered. “This is my husband Marty,” she said, pulling an overweight, pasty-looking man toward me.
I removed my hand from Tobin’s arm and suddenly felt very alone. “Kiersten Fellows.” I introduced myself when it was obvious Francie didn’t intend to. Marty’s handshake was as limp as his suit.
“Francie, this is—”
“Tobin Parks.” She was gushing all over herself like she was twelve. “When I heard you were coming, Kiersten, I told Marty we just had to be here.”
Somehow I knew that wasn’t true.
“Francie, I’m here as Kiersten’s guest, nothing more. Now, will you excuse us?” Tobin said, smoothly extricating us from the gawking Francie and her husband.
“Relax,” Tobin said, taking my hand as she led me away. “We’re supposed to be together,” she added, pulling me closer.
“How do you deal with this?” I asked, casually glancing around the room. The lights were low but bright enough to see everyone.
“Like what?”
“Everybody watching you, your every move.”
“Ignore them.”
I had to chuckle. “Just that simple? Just ignore them?”
“That and don’t make eye contact,” she said, hiding a smile behind her glass of beer.
“Kind of hard to do when we’re at a party.”
“Good point, but they’re completely focused on you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”
I stopped so I could look into Tobin’s eyes. They were dark, her pupils large with flecks of color.
“What?” she asked innocently. “You are.”
“Hmm, not hardly,” I said, not believing her.
“Why do you say that, Kiersten? You are.”
“I know you saw my yearbook photo.”
“So? That has nothing to do with who you are now. I was pretty ugly and gawky at that age too. I was missing a front tooth and was skin and bones. My clothes were from the church give-away box, and I never had a pair of shoes that fit. Good God, Kiersten, look around. Everyone here has changed. I doubt they all were this overweight or bald in high school. They’re the ones that should be embarrassed, not you.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” I protested. “I wasn’t twenty years ago, and I’m not now,” I lied.
“Okay, wrong word. Let’s just focus on having them drool all over the successful CEO and her hot girl-date.” Tobin grinned and raised her eyebrows several times. “Let’s give them something to talk about, shall we?”
For the hundredth time I questioned my decision to let Tobin escort me to this stupid reunion. What did she mean by that? I’d been embarrassed and humiliated enough years ago. I didn’t need it now. If I thought the picture from our innocent conversation on the hotel patio was something, this would be an Internet feast and a shit storm when my mother got wind of it. Oh, well. Too late now, I said to myself, squaring my shoulders and standing up straighter.
“Okay, but within reason. I still have a reputation to uphold,” I said, sounding old and stuffy.
“So do I,” Tobin said just before she kissed me.
Chapter Twenty-two
Holy cow, could she kiss. Her lips were soft, yet sure of exactly what she was doing. It wasn’t too wet or sloppy or indecent. It could probably be described by some as chaste as far as a Tobin Parks’s kiss went.
It was over almost as fast as it started, but I felt it to the tip of my toes. My stomach was somewhere below my belt buckle, and it was putting some serious pressure on some serious girl parts. When she lifted her head and I opened my eyes, Tobin was looking at me with raw desire. My pulse was racing, my heart hammering, and my crotch was throbbing in an unfamiliar way. My mind went blank, and my throat felt suddenly very dry. I instinctively licked my lips, and Tobin’s eyes grew darker as she watched. My knees became suddenly very weak.
“I think I need to sit down,” I managed to choke out.
Four other couples were already seated at the nearest table, and the women gaped while the men stood as we approached. One of the men I recognized as my chemistry lab partner in tenth and eleventh grade. Finally a friendly face.
“Josh.” I hugged him. “You look great.” He did. He was still trim and had all his hair, which was more than I could say about the three other men at our table.
“Kiersten, CEO of JOLT. You’ve come a long way, obviously because I helped you learn the periodic table of elements.” I heard nothing but friendly joking in his comment and remembered how much I liked him.
“Without you, where would I be?”
“Slinging hash at the diner.” We laughed at our inside joke. “Hey, this is my wife, Linda. Linda, this is Kiersten Fellows. We were chem-lab partners.”
I reached out my hand and Linda took it enthusiastically. “Glad to meet you, Kiersten. Josh showed me your picture in the yearbook. He was so hoping you’d be here.”
I liked Linda and Josh. They hadn’t given Tobin a second glance during the two minutes of meet and greet.
“Josh, Linda, this is Tobin Parks.” I felt ridiculous introducing Tobin to everyone. It was like introducing Cher or Madonna or Kesha. Everyone knew who they were.
“You’re one up on me, Josh,” Tobin said, shaking his hand. “Kiersten never showed me her yearbook.” She turned to me, her grin sending tingles up and down my body. “No more excuses, honey. I want to see it when we get home.
Because of the way Tobin’s eyes glistened, the deep dimples in her cheeks, and the way she kissed me, even though her comment was designed for appearances only, turning dusty pages in a twenty-year-old book was the farthest thing on my mind when it came to how to spend the rest of the night.
We sat down between Josh and a guy I remembered from the band and his very pregnant wife. He looked starstruck, and she looked miserable, like she might pop that baby out any second.
We all made small talk about jobs, families, and teachers we had in common. Everyone at the table was polite, but I knew they were dying to talk to and about Tobin.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice said from the front of the room, immediately followed by shrill feedback from the microphone. “Oops, sorry,” the speaker said. “Welcome to the twentieth reunion of Alhambra High School, class of…”
The room quieted as he introduced himself and other members of the reunion committee. Mercifully he was brief, and the servers started filing out of the side doors carrying trays of plates covered with silver lids. Forty-five minutes later he was back at the podium announcing who had traveled the farthest, had the most kids, and had died. The slide show began, and my anxiety kicked up from a five to an eight on a ten-point scale. Picture after picture faded in and out on the large screen in the front of the room. As each picture came into focus my former alumni greeted it with hoots and howls. I figured out that the pictures of those in attendance tonight stayed on the screen longer than those who had stayed home. I dreaded their reaction when it was my turn.
As with my entire high school and college years, luck was not on my side. I was well practiced in the art of showing no reaction to the cruelties of my peers, even though for the past twelve years I looked nothing like I had back then. However, I hadn’
t forgotten the skill. As soon as I realized my former self, all pimply, ugly, bad hair, big glasses, and braces could be on display, I prepared myself.
Dead silence filled the room the instant it was my turn to be immortalized from twenty years earlier. My stomach seized when I saw myself, and I was instantly transported back to that time. Loneliness and pain washed over me like a wet wool blanket. I felt both small and ginormous at the same time.
I wasn’t sure if it was real or my imagination, but I heard a few snickers and a few gasps. I felt everyone looking at me so I simply smiled and shook my head as if to say, Oh well, that was then, and this is now.
I had worked hard, damn hard, to change my body and my attitude. My self-respect and self-confidence were much harder to change. Inside, where no one would see, I straightened my back and demanded my inner self-confidence to be stronger as a successful woman than it was as a child.
I wanted to look at Tobin, see her reaction, but I forced my eyes to remain on the old me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the picture changed to the state-championship football game. The levity in the room slowly resumed, and I faked it as well as I had all those years ago.
With the slide show over, Tobin asked me to dance. Actually it was more of a dance-with-me than a would-you-like-to-dance? I probably would have said no so as not to draw attention to myself. My standard MO with this crowd.
When I hesitated she said “I’d like to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“Don’t patronize me, Tobin,” I said sharply. “I don’t need your approval or your validation. I have very tough skin, obviously callused from years of experience.”
“Then dance with me,” Tobin repeated.
“I’d rather not.” I was suddenly nervous.
“Why not? Other people are.”
“I don’t care what other people are doing.” Tobin frowned, and I knew I’d sounded a little abrupt.
“Are you afraid?”
“Afraid of what?” I asked stupidly. Of course I was. Afraid of people looking at me and seeing the fat girl with thick glasses trying so desperately to fit in. Afraid I’d make a fool of myself by tripping over my feet. Afraid of being too close to Tobin.
From the minute I’d opened my front door I had been completely aware of her. From the laces on her shiny shoes to the top of her wild black hair to the appreciative look in her eyes when she gave me the once-over, I’d been completely aware Tobin was my date.
The limo ride had been okay, the large backseat providing a comfortable yet acceptable amount of distance between us. I don’t remember what we talked about, but conversation had flowed smoothly during the twenty-minute ride to the club. When we arrived Tobin exited the car first and extended her hand to help me out. I almost tripped when a shock of electricity shot through my palm, up my arm, down my middle, and landed right between my legs. Seeming to know my plight, Tobin just gripped my hand tighter and put her other arm around my waist to steady me. Thankfully she hadn’t said anything. When she released me, my body reacted and I missed the warmth of her arm. She’d kept her hand at the small of my back as we walked up the steps into the lobby.
“Of what people might think?” Tobin asked, her voice still quiet.
“I stopped worrying about what people think years ago. I can’t control that and I don’t care.”
“You like to be in control, don’t you?”
I almost said yes but thought about it first. “Sometimes. When it makes sense, when I have to,” I answered, not sure if that was the whole truth or only partially so.
“Well, this is one of those times you can let go. Let’s dance.”
This time it wasn’t a question but more of a statement, punctuated by her standing up and holding out her hand, palm up. I didn’t have much choice but to accept.
Chapter Twenty-three
I waited for the sizzle I felt every time we touched. It had been a mild buzz of interest the first time, but tonight a much higher intensity kicked up to full power when Kiersten had opened her front door.
She was wearing a pale-blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes. Her hair was down, and all night I had fought the urge to run my hands through it. I loved long hair, and Kiersten’s looked soft and thick, not stiff and sticky like so many others. She wore a little more makeup than she had the other times I’d seen her, the heavier hand bringing out the depth and contrast of her eyes.
The dress fit her perfectly, tight at the top, accentuating her breasts, fitted at the bodice, and flaring out just below her hips. She had on barely there hose and classic pumps with three-inch heels. She looked like the classy, sophisticated, successful woman she was. And I had no idea what I was doing here with her. I was completely out-classed.
It had been a lark when I asked her to take me as her date. I hadn’t thought about it before I asked her. My mouth just opened and out it came. I’d gotten pretty good at inviting myself into a beautiful woman’s arms, and I guess that’s what I thought it would be in this case. Until I was standing on her doorstep I hadn’t thought about it much at all.
As I stood there with my hand out, I could see Kiersten debating with herself about dancing with me. I very easily could have charmed her into it, but for some reason this needed to be her decision.
What was I doing here? Why had I gone out of my way to spend the evening with her? I had to cancel a couple of big promotional things, and Jake was furious. Too bad. He could get over it. I’d had my assistant Patty dig up everything she could on Kiersten, and it came as a complete surprise to see the amazing transformation. Other than the color of her eyes, Kiersten looked nothing like she had twenty years ago. What must she have had to do? How many hours in the gym and meals of fish and chicken and green leafy vegetables? Had she had some type of weight-loss surgery to kick-start her transformation? Did she eat like a bird now? She hadn’t when we had dinner that one night. Did she keep a pair of fat pants in the front of her closet as a stark reminder to never go there again? Why was I so curious?
I could understand why she might feel unease in front of these people, but I gave her an extreme amount of credit for even being here. She was handling herself with class. She wasn’t saying, “What do you think of me now, assholes?” She wasn’t flaunting her success in their faces. She could buy and sell most of these people all day and not break a sweat. But she was humble, never bragging about JOLT or alluding to her eight-figure income.
I, however, was starting to feel like an idiot standing there with my hand out waiting for her to decide. It would be more than a little embarrassing if she said no. I wanted to feel her in my arms, hold her tight against me, inhale her scent that I had only tantalizingly sampled so far. I was looking for a chance to touch her hair, slide my leg between hers, and maybe kiss her again.
It was seduction 101, and even though I hadn’t had to seduce anyone in years and might be a little rusty, I still remembered how. I said a silent thanks to some god somewhere when Kiersten finally placed her hand in mine and stood. My hand tingled and my stomach fluttered as I led her to the dance floor.
She moved easily into my arms, and I pulled her close. Her arm wrapped around my shoulders, her hand settled lightly between my shoulder blades. She smelled good and felt even better.
We moved around the floor, easily sidestepping the other couples around us. More than a few dozen eyes were on us, not only because we were the only two non-heterosexual couple at the event but because of who we were and that we were so obviously together. I was used to pretending to be something I wasn’t, but this time I suddenly and inexplicably wanted it to be something else.
“You okay?” Kiersten asked when I missed a step. She pulled me closer to steady me.
I’m not sure what I wanted to say but didn’t know how or what it even meant. Instead I said, “Yeah, sorry.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d danced like this. Dancing with the first lady of Spain last year had been fun but nothing more. I was
in her country for a few shows, and she had invited me to the first-family residence. Just a few close friends, her personal secretary said when she connected with Jake. If eighty-four people were just a few close friends, throwing a garden party for all of them was probably as complicated as an elaborate state dinner. But I hadn’t danced with a woman close like this, even under the guise of a date, in a long time—a very long time.
I never went to dances as a kid. I never wanted to, even if I’d had something decent to wear. No way was I going to subject myself to any more ridicule than I had to endure during mandatory school hours. That, and I was certain Debbie Stevens would have slapped my face for even suggesting she was queer, let alone let me kiss her.
“You’re an excellent dancer,” Kiersten said.
“Thanks.” And thank you for the private lessons, Val Shipley. Val was one of the crew dancers on Dancing With The Stars. It would not be good to be thought of as having two left feet. Val had taught me more than a few dance steps during our time together.
The music was vaguely registering in the back of my brain, but Kiersten in my arms had all my attention.
I returned the compliment. “You as well.”
“Forty lessons at the local Fred Astaire dance studio,” she said sarcastically.
“What was the occasion?” I asked. I liked her sense of humor.
“Every young lady needs to know how to follow a gentleman around the floor with poise and grace.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Your mother.”
“Got it right on the first try.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Follow a gentleman around the dance floor with poise and grace.” Kiersten laughed, and I liked the way her breasts felt moving against me.
“No.”
“No?” I asked, hoping she’d elaborate.
“No,” she said in that familiar final tone. I sure would like to hear her say yes with that same definitive confidence.
“Their loss. Something tells me your mother would not be too happy that all her expensive dance lessons were wasted on me.”
