“Eventually all the pieces fall into place… Until then, laugh at the confusion, live for the moment, and know that everything happens for a reason.” -Carrie Bradshaw
O wen stands at the edge of the garage and takes his phone from his back pocket, and while he does it, I get a quick glimpse of his backside as his shirt lifts. His pants fit him well and his ass is quite literally perfection. Kyra waits paces behind him and so I follow her cue. Moments later, the solid polished wood garage door lifts and his black SUV sails forward, stopping right before his feet. Of course, his car can drive itself. As if I need another reason to cream my panties over him. He walks around the SUV briskly and opens the door for Kyra. He closes her door gently and smiles at me. It’s a small smile but it is indeed a smile, and eye contact. My heart flies into my throat. I follow him around the other side of the SUV and the door sails open as we approach. I lean forward and try to secretly inhale his scent as I duck down and enter. Before I can find my seat, he rests his hand on my forearm. What is this?
“Oh, I think this may be yours,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pink elastic hairband. Oh shit. I left it in his bathroom. My eyes widen as if my deepest secret has been revealed-which of course my deepest secret is tingling within me right at this moment-but still. The moment feels charged. I reach out and take the hair tie. I want to say Kyra made me! But instead I mutter “thank you” before sliding into the leather seat and tugging at the seatbelt nervously.
Am I flush or has the color drained from my face? I try to nonchalantly pat my cheeks and take a breath as Owen makes his way around the car, into the driver’s seat.
He talks to Kyra on the drive over about some family members that I’ve not yet learned of-perhaps they are distant? He glances back to Kyra in the rearview as they speak and a few times I catch him look at me, too. This is how normal people are. They look at other people. My inner voice really needs to help me get control of this situation because every time he looks at me, my insides melt with the heat of possibility.
There is no possibility! He’s just nice and polite. Yes, thank you, inner voice. I need to chill.
Dinner is a blur. I’m sure Owen must think I’m a devoid airhead after my quick, nearly one-word responses all evening. Of course, I want him to see me as an intelligent young woman but I am so worried about Kyra recognizing that something is off with me that all I do is make calculated movements and responses.
Okay, the bread is here.
Keep your hands in your lap, smile lightly.
Take a piece, take a bite, set it on your plate.
Okay Kyra is talking about class. Nod knowingly and smile.
Keep your ankles crossed under the table.
And that’s how it went… the ENTIRE dinner. It was exhausting but it was far better than having an accidental response to Owen, be it verbal or physical, and falling under Kyra’s microscope. No, I needed to try really hard to keep this under wraps. Until it wore off. It was going to wear off, right?
WHEN WE ARRIVE BACK HOME, Kyra pulls me aside in the kitchen while Owen is closing the garage and telling Marie goodnight. Apparently, she has a small mother-in-law type quarters on the back of the property where she lives. I feel a twinge of jealousy course through me thinking that Marie gets checked in on by Owen every night. Lucky her.
“Hey, my friend from high school wants to go out tonight and catch up. Come with me!”
She is enthusiastic about every social gathering ever and I am quite the opposite. I don’t feel like shuffling nervously behind a group of strangers all evening while everyone drinks themselves into oblivion. She reads my face and sticks her bottom lip out in an obvious pout.
“Are you sure? They’d love you. You know you’re awesome, right?”
I smile at her.
She is too sweet to me. But nonetheless, I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable social situations for the evening and tell her I plan to stay home and read. My room at their house is the nicest room I’ve ever stayed in and I plan to snuggle in one of those luscious chairs by the fire and read. I will read until my eyes won’t stay open any longer. Anything to take my mind off of him. She acquiesces and Owen walks in, the cedarwood and citrus smell of his soap and cologne drifts to me and nearly pulls me straight into his arms. Audibly I gasp and try to disguise it as a cough.
“Water?” Kyra looks at me strangely then slides a bottle of Evian across the marble counter.
“Thanks,” my voice is a whisper as I try to make the faux tickle in my throat seem believable.
Jesus what this man does to me.
“Dad,” she starts, as he disappears below the island briefly before emerging with a bottle of wine. “I’m going to meet some of the girls from the swim team. I’ll be home before morning, I promise.”
She squeezes his upper arm and again, a flash of jealousy surges through me. How casually she gets to touch him. Sigh.
His gaze turns to me.
“You’re not interested?”
Somehow, he knows I’ve begged off, and I nod, holding his lingering regard as long as possible before he turns back to Kyra.
“Have fun, I’ll be checking in on you. Call me if you drink,” he gives her a small smile and I learn in this moment that I’ve never seen him smile warmly. She kisses me on the cheek, then him and slips out the back door.
He reaches below the island once more and pulls out another wine glass. Ugh, he’s having company. I stand from the bar and wonder briefly if I can even find my room by myself before he interrupts my thoughts.
“Wine?” the word is so rich when he says it.
“I’ve actually, um, never had wine before,” I say, suddenly quite aware of my complete lack of life experience and my overwhelming naivete.
He doesn’t seem to care that I’m not yet twenty-one years old. Soon, by the end of summer I will be. I don’t know if this is him trying to be cool dad or if he in fact realizes that despite not being of age, Kyra and I are both adults. Hmm, I wonder.
“But I’d love to try,” my cheeks burn and I silently pray that the dim evening light in the kitchen is enough to hide their rosiness.
He pours us each a glass. The wine is cold and bitter and upon first sip, instantly trickles through my veins and soothes my jumpy nerves. After another sip, I exhale and feel my shoulders relax. This will be ok; I will get through this summer. It will be fine.
He interrupts me.
“Elizabeth,” oh Lord does my name sound smooth on his lips. “Tell me about yourself. Kyra’s told me you’re an English literature major.”
He is leaning against the counter behind him, arms crossed against his chest, his capable hand cupping his wine glass. The kitchen is growing darker as moments pass and, in this light, he is absolutely delicious. This was my fear. When I fell in love with his voice, I feared that his looks would match.
My greatest fear come true, over and over.
“Well,” I’m trying to think of anything of even moderate interest about me but the truth is, there is nothing. I’m a latchkey child to an absent mother and non-existent father. I have no friends outside of Kyra and no real skills or traits. See, when you’re poor, there is no consistent money for food, much less piano lessons or private volleyball coaches.
I move the wine glass around a few times before looking back to him. His eyes have never left me, I can feel it.
“I’m not that interesting. I’m from Lander, Wyoming, I’m not sure if Kyra told you that.”
He smiles coolly but still doesn’t speak. He wants me to keep talking. I watch my fingers trace the length of the stem on the wine glass as I continue.
“I want to be a teacher. Grade school I think but I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
And suddenly, as I gaze up at this handsome man in this beautiful house, I feel that I must thank him for this summer.
“Mr. Bolling, I just wanted to say thank you for letting me stay here this summer. And I’m going to look for a job tomorrow so I can contribute to my expenses. But thank you. I mean it, I very much appreciate it.”
His impassive gaze softens before he pushes off the counter, sips his wine and then leans in on the island on his elbows. The island is huge-I couldn’t even guess the dimensions-but even with him stretching across there is still space between us. Too much space, I think to myself.
“I’ve gotten you both jobs at my office for the summer. Keeps Kyra in line when I know where she’s at.”
He gives one of his partial smiles and I take another sip of the bitter wine. Is this good? I mean, I guess it is if he’s chosen it? He doesn’t strike me as the type to drink cheap wine.
“Is your family still in Wyoming?” I am surprised at this question. It means that while Kyra has divulged information about me to him, she has left out the bits that I am sensitive about. Interesting. She’s either ashamed or protecting me, and I tend to think the latter.
“I think so,” I say, feeling my cheeks once again grow warm. I look to him and his brow is furrowed with confusion.
“Oh, this is embarrassing. Well. Umm. I don’t know my Dad. He left when I was four. And my mom, well, I haven’t talked to her in a year. She’s… somewhere.”
He reaches forward with his right arm and places his hand over mine. His skin is warm and feels heavy. The apex of my thighs screams for more.
He squeezes it gently and says, in a quiet voice, “that’s embarrassing for them, not for you.” And he releases me.
Suddenly I feel as if I’ve had three glasses of wine rather than three sips of wine. My entire body goes warm and my hand tingles and I can’t help but stare at my hand, where his was. My cheeks are ablaze and my heart is beating so loudly I’m almost sure he can hear it.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” He stands up and runs his hand through his thick hair and sighs quietly. “It’s not a fair lot you’ve been given. But that’s no reflection of you, that’s all I meant to say.”
I can feel the warm tears form behind my eyes. What he’s just said is something that I know is true… yet I wrestle with it continually. The first person to ever say something along those lines was my high school counselor who believed in me greatly and helped me write all of my college admissions letters and applications. She was wonderful. I blink away the forming tears and smile, before finishing the glass of wine.
He senses my mood and moves the conversation along.
“How are you liking the University? Kyra tells me you are an exceptional student.”
So, she’s sang my praises but kept the unsavory bits of my life private. She probably didn’t want him to worry about being roommates with a poor girl from Wyoming.
“Kyra is a wonderful student, too, but of course you know that.”
He leans back against the counter again, his white shirt and black slacks still perfectly creaseless.
“But you like it there?”
I realize I have not answered his question.
“I love it. I can’t believe I’m almost done.”
I feel a silence settle in between us across that long kitchen island, and I’m afraid if it lasts much longer, I may drag myself over the counter and leap onto him, wrapping my legs around his hips and cover his mouth with mine. Take a breath.
“Thank you for getting us jobs for the summer, too, that’s very nice of you. And thank you for letting me stay here, this is the most amazing place
I’ve ever seen or set foot it. It’s exquisite.”