"Are
you fucking kidding me, Rox?" Stacey screamed into the phone.
There was music blaring in the background, and I heard the clicking
of a camera lens and loud flashes. I could only imagine how many
umbrellas were set up for the shoot. She was at her next spread for
Cover Girl,
but decided to stop the presses just for me.
"I
wish I were," I said, remembering his lips on my thighs and the
taste of him in my mouth. "He’s intoxicating." My words
seemed to drift away into the open space of the car as I accelerated
onto the 610 Loop.
"Oh
my god," she said. "The airiness in your tone, the pauses
between your sentences—you fucking liiiiiiiiike
him, don’t you?"
I
couldn’t admit that, not right now. It was too soon, way too soon.
Actually, only hours after the incident,
as I now termed it. I couldn’t even tell Stacey what exactly had
happened, just that something had
happened. Her imagination was dirty, so I’m sure she could figure
it out with just a few hints. Honestly, if I even said a peep about
it, or about how Parker Williams made me feel, she would be declaring
her victory. I might as well just hand her the crown.
The
incident
had shifted everything I once thought I believed, and everything I
had tried to avoid. I couldn’t deny that when I closed my eyes, his
face was the one I saw. Those piercing blue eyes were burned into my
retinas. I knew the smile permanently attached to my lips existed for
one reason. Or if one wanted to get technical, it was the messy brown
hair, blue eyes, and that sexy voice that almost made my knees go
weak.
Oh
my god.
Was
I having a revelation?
Yes,
I was
having a revelation. Maybe I wasn’t in control of how I felt
anymore? But that couldn't be. Not after being with someone only
once. The chase was over, wasn't it? Fuuuuucccckkkkkk
me! The heart was trying to control
me, but I couldn’t let it. Even the heart had weaknesses. Love was
the equivalent of stabbing a dagger into a heart and twisting. Okay,
maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but it felt like it to me.
"No.
Of course not," I said after a long pause. I was lost in my
thoughts, and Stacey, being the way she was, noticed.
"I
wish I could see your face right now, because I know you’re lying.
I know you are trying to feed me lies, Roxane VanBuren, and I’m not
having it. I want every single dirty little detail of what happened,
and not just, ‘we moved to second base,’ got it?"
A
man’s voice yelled in the background about how models should get
off their damn phones and actually work today.
"I’ve
got to go. Darrell is being such a douche. I swear his glitter
panties are in a knot right now … but this isn’t over."
More
yells followed, and she said her goodbyes after cursing loudly that
it was an emergency and people needed to shut the hell up.
My
heart raced at the thought of what was happening to me. I had to deny
this at all costs. I couldn’t be in like.
I had never fallen for someone so soon. No way. And if I started
admitting it, even to myself, it would be trouble.
I
knew it sounded so silly to be in like,
but it was the first step to love. All I could think of was that
stupid childhood chant that we all sang to agitate people who were in
like.
Roxy and Parker sitting in a tree … next thing there would
k-i-s-s-i-n-g, love, then a baby in a baby carriage. Hell no. No.
There were no babies in my future.
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Lyra
Parish loves to write, glamp, and sing obnoxiously loud at the top of
her lungs in the shower. Sweet love stories (along with the dirty
ones) make her gush. She is a firm believer that a person can never
have too many cups of coffee, cats, or happily ever afters. When she
isn't busy writing, she can be found sipping various beverages from
her non-alcoholic drink buffet, pimp slapping excel spreadsheets, or
riding her bike. Lyra lives in Texas with her glassblowing,
guitar-playing hubby and black cat named Nibbler.
For
more information or to contact, please visit: lyraparish.com
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