What Happens Over Spring Break: A Short Story Anthology Page 22

  “Hiding…in the closet.”

  I covered my face with my hands, unable to meet her eyes anymore. Erica was not a huge fan of Trevor, but she was always my biggest cheerleader. She was, after all, my older sister and “protective” was part of the job description. The first time I had gone to her place in tears because I’d thought something was off between us, she had gone into defensive overdrive, even mentioning my plight to our brother Damon. He and Trevor had been good friends when we started dating. The two of them went on and on about standing up for myself and figuring out what I wanted from our relationship.

  “In the closet,” she repeated slowly. “I love you, but if he’s hiding in the closet, what does that tell you?”

  “That I shoved him there,” I said defensively.

  “And why did you shove him in there?”

  She had her therapist hat on…not that she was a therapist. She just played one for me.

  “Because, it wasn’t right. He’s here with someone else.”

  “And?”

  “And…I felt like I was being manipulated. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “No. I want to know why it felt wrong. I mean, if you and Trevor were meant to be, would you have stopped it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said quietly, considering her question again. “When he kissed me, it was familiar. It was what I missed. But nothing has changed with him. At least not that I know of. But I’ve changed.”

  “Yeah, you have.”

  “You’ve noticed?”

  “When you were with Trevor, you were waiting for everything to happen for you. You left the ball in his court for too long, and the first step you took for yourself was to ask him about your future. And even though it’s only been a few months, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as strong and independent as you are right now.”

  “Six.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been six months,” I said, as if my heart had an expiration date. “And I’ve wondered so many times what it would be like to see him here today. I’ve dreaded your wedding for that reason. Tell me again why you invited him?”

  “Because I sent the save the date when you two were still together. And I can’t believe he showed up, honestly.”

  “But my point is, when he showed up to that room, it felt like no time had passed. We were still the same people…and that was the problem. And when Elliot showed up and kissed me…”

  “While Trevor hid in the closet…Go on…”

  I rolled my eyes and she smirked.

  “It felt right.”

  “Are you going to tell Elliot?”

  “Tell me what?” I heard his voice before I saw him.

  When I turned to face Elliot, he was smiling sweetly as he got closer to us. I nudged Erica as I shook my head and muttered my response under my breath.

  “It’s nothing.” I smiled. “I was just telling her that I decided I’m going to do a half marathon. Part of the New, Better Bianca.”

  “I like the Bianca I’ve gotten to know,” he said.

  “I’ll see you two in a little,” Erica said as she started to walk off.

  “Where are you going?” I asked. “I thought you needed something in the room.”

  “Nope. I need to find my husband,” she said, and then laughed. “That’s so weird. I have a husband now!”

  She walked away, leaving Elliot and me alone, and he glanced down at me with a soft expression on his face. He wrapped his arms around my waist as I held onto his biceps, silently thanking my sister for dressing this man up in a sexy tuxedo. I’d done a good job of putting all my thoughts into getting over Trevor, and hadn’t realized that someone better was right in front of me the whole time.

  “Would it be inappropriate to make out with you right here?” he asked. “Or do you want to go back to the wedding?”

  I felt my cheeks flush and I tilted my face so my lips were inches from his. His eyes were boring into mine with such admiration and intensity. I could feel my heart beating against my chest so hard that I wondered if he noticed. The anticipation of his lips on mine was too much, so I pushed onto my toes, touching my lips to his.

  It was just as perfect as the kiss he’d surprised me with in the bridal room. There we were in the middle of a huge hallway, making out like teenagers, and I knew it was a matter of time before someone saw us. I managed to stop kissing him long enough to pull him into a nook around the corner.

  “I thought you weren’t looking for a relationship,” I said awkwardly as I played with his suit tie.

  “I wasn’t.” He smiled. “I’d already found it. I was just waiting for you to see it too.”

  “That is incredibly cheesy.” I grinned before kissing him once. “And so sweet.”

  “If you tell anyone I said that, they might revoke my man card.”

  “Don’t worry…I can keep a secret.”

  T.K. Rapp always loved writing, but it wasn’t something that seemed attainable when she was younger. Still she wrote, just for herself, always password protecting her files. Unfortunately, somewhere in her home on a file, are numerous stories that she cannot access because she forgot those passwords.

  On her birthday in 2013 that she decided to pursue her dream of writing and she never regretted it for a second. The journey has introduced her to people from all over the world and she’s made wonderful friends along the way.

  These days, when she’s not writing, you can find her working on home remodels, chauffeuring her teenagers all over town, or relaxing with family and friends.

  T.K. Rapp lives in Texas with her husband, two daughters, and three furbabies. She is a lover of raunchy humor, gossip blogs and good books. Follow her on any of her social media links.

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/T.K.Rapp.Author/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tkrapp/

  Snapchat: tkam78

  Twitter: @TKAM78

  Amazon Author Page: http://bit.ly/Rapp-Titles

  Yours

  Copyright © 2018 by Lucy Gage

  All rights reserved.

  lucygageauthor@gmail.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  After months of snow in frigid Williston, the heat on the Panhandle warmed my bones as I lounged on the deck with no guests needing help, no towels to fold, meals to prep, or tests to take. Okay, my parents were right to insist that I take a break from my assistant innkeeper duties at the family business, Peyton’s Place, and enjoy my final college spring break in sunny Florida. As much as I loved Vermont, the sunshine was working wonders on my psyche and already adding more color to my natural caramel complexion.

  Recovering from an epic breakup sucks. When you stare at your ex every day while he co-teaches your writing workshop with your favorite professor, it’s a special kind of hell. If I didn’t love Bev and respect her mentorship, I’d have skipped that class in a heartbeat to avoid Colin.

  A splat of icy water broke my concentration. “Ass.”

  Stef grumbled, “You’re thinking about The Douche.”

  I turned my head to the left and lifted my sunglasses to glare at my best friend, Stjepan Kovač. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “Oh, please. Every time you think about that dickhead, you make the most unattractive grimace with those gorgeous Angelina lips. Stop wallowing. We’re here to shift focus, Fin.”

  My head flopped back onto my lounge chair. “I know.”

  “Well, then do it.”

 
“It’s not easy. He’s just… there.”

  “You know what I think?” He sat and swung his legs to the side of his chaise. It wasn’t much of an arc; for all his soccer prowess, the guy had short legs, and at 5'-7", he landed two inches below my height, even if you didn’t count my corkscrew curls.

  “Good thing I wore shades? You’ll blind a girl with that pasty chest.” My smirk said I was joking, but we’d known each other for nearly eight years. He’d never think otherwise.

  “Oh, hush. We live in Vermont, and you know I stopped tanning because your mom said it would cook my insides.”

  “She’s not wrong there.” My hippie parents had been living clean and growing organic food for my entire life, since the days before I was born on the commune where they met. They did not believe in artificial anything, and that included sun exposure. Their attitude was one of the things that set apart Peyton’s Place when they first opened eight years ago.

  “I know. That’s why I listened. You’re distracting me from my lecture.”

  “Oh, Stef. You know how I love your lectures.”

  “I might never stop talking now.”

  “Promises, promises.” I fluttered my long, black lashes.

  “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

  I faced him. “And that’s what you love about me.”

  “As I was saying, I think you need a good distraction.”

  Rolling my eyes, I stood and wandered to the table, where my glass of sweet tea sat in the shade. Most of the ice had melted anyway. Gotta love Florida heat in spring. “Please don’t tell me that you expect me to do any of the typical bullshit college spring break crap.”

  His face scrunched. “I sort of promised your parents I would force you to do it.”

  My mouth dropped. “Seriously, Stef? Why would you do that? I hate being in those kinds of crowds.”

  “Which is why we’re in Destin. Your parents knew you would never do the crazy party thing.”

  Not only had I never rebelled against their lifestyle, but I’d also embraced an anti-party stance as a teen. Mostly because parties at our high school had meant being around the worst of humanity that CVU offered.

  Stef and I had originally bonded over our mutual hatred of this one girl, Kelsey. She’d tormented both of us for different reasons—him for being in the closet, me for being bi-racial—but, let’s be honest; she was jealous that her boyfriend spoke to us like humans, and she knew we both crushed on him. Hard. Hence, the bitchitude—covert, of course. As valedictorian of our class, Kelsey couldn’t tarnish her perfect reputation. Didn’t mean she wasn’t the biggest bitch in our huge school. Thank God she didn’t stay around Burlington and go to UVM like Stef and me.

  Graduation marked the beginning of my Vermont love.

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t hurt that Vince offered for us to stay here while he was visiting Williston.” Many of the inn’s repeat customers, like Vince, were generous snowbirds who still loved a ski run or two over the winter.

  “Uh huh. Doesn’t Vince always come in February?” Stef’s knowing look gave me pause.

  “Yes.” I didn’t like where this was going.

  “And why did he come in March this year?”

  “He said… oh, shit. You’re telling me this was a big plan? Between my parents, Vince, and you?”

  He winced. “And Anna, Rita, and Zeke.”

  Not only had my best friend plotted with my parents and their friend to make this happen, but they’d also coerced the sous chef and cleaning crew to go along with it.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Honey, we all know you’ve been hurting since things ended with SuperDouche last summer. It was time.”

  “For what?” I murmured, afraid to ask.

  “To move on. He never deserved you.” He patted my hand. “Now, where are we going tonight? I know better than to insist on a beach adventure until tomorrow.”

  He was smart, that one. I needed to shave, big time.

  “Maybe a club?”

  “You hate crowds,” Stef said around his smile.

  “Yes, but I love to dance, and I missed my run. And I’m not running in this heat.”

  His snort told me what he thought of my multi-tasking idea, but Stef loved clubs and knew it would be his only chance to get me into one while we were here. Socializing wasn’t on my agenda.

  Nor was replacing Colin. I’d been over him since the moment I caught him with his dick inside his now-fiancée, but I didn’t need a new man. Men sucked. Except for Stef. But he didn’t count. Gay or not, he was my bestie. He clapped his hands in a cheerleader motion—one of the few habits that gave a clue to his sexuality—and as always, it made me laugh.

  “I suppose you have somewhere in mind?”

  “You know I do.”

  A sigh escaped my lungs. “And?”

  “And you will love it. But you better get your cute little ass moving. You have serious grooming in store. I expect you to wear something that shows off your enviable body.” He tugged my hand and dragged me toward the house. “You get started. I’ll clean up.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have my routine down to a science. I make this mug sparkle every day. Every bartender’s secret—look hot, and they’ll tip well.” He left me beside the bathroom door. “Go.”

  I trudged inside. Why couldn’t I read and write for my vacation without the whole college girl hoopla?

  For an hour, we’d been sitting in a club. Maybe it wasn’t usually lame, but it was dead now.

  “Too bad this place sucks,” I mused. “The music is decent.”

  Stef chuckled. “They played Taylor.”

  “A girl loves what she loves.” I wiggled my brows.

  “A girl is obsessed with Taylor Swift.”

  “Hey, we share a—”

  “Birthday, love of words and music, yadda, yadda. Yes, I know. As if I could ever forget.” He rolled his eyes at me. “I seriously hope some people arrive soon. Clubs at home are usually hopping by now.” He finished his water. “I’m heading for the bar. By the time I get back, I expect you to be prepared for tequila shots and a Long Island Iced Tea. No more nursing drinks. It’s party time.”

  “Are you nuts? You know I’m a lightweight!”

  “Which is why you’re a cheap date.” He winked and headed for the bar.

  Within thirty minutes, Jose Cuervo and his friends from Long Island had lowered my inhibitions. Bodies had filled the empty spaces, and I’d dragged Stef onto the dance floor when Tay’s “The Story of Us” began.

  We shook and shimmied, and if my dress rode up my thighs a little, I didn’t care. The a/c had cut some of the warmth generated by the dancers, but not enough, and after a couple songs, it was time for a break.

  While we sipped our water at the bar, Stef signaled to the bartender—who clearly had his eyes on my best friend—to bring us more shots. Stef shook his head when I lifted the shot glass toward him. “Nope. I’m the driver, remember? They’re both for you.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said with a giggle. Lick it, slam it, suck it, just like a damn pro. Fuck you, Colin. He’d always complained that I wasn’t very adventurous because I wouldn’t drink with him.

  “Feeling mighty fine?” Stef asked.

  “Hell, yes!” I yelled. A few people glanced at me.

  “Good. Your next mission is to erase Douchenozzle.”

  “Erase him? Like, as if I’m the Terminator?”

  Stef laughed heartily. “No, babe. The taste of him.”

  “I’m not following.”

  He grasped my shoulders. “Kiss someone new.”

  “I don’t want a new boyfriend,” I whined.

  “Not a boyfriend. A swish of the wine, so to speak.”

  “Stef, I’m drunk. Speak English.”

  Sighing, he said, “Palate cleanser, my child. You need to kiss another man to kick that idiot from your brain.”

  �
�Oh.” Then, reality dawned. “Wait, you don’t want me to screw some other guy, do you?”

  “Hey, if you want to lift your skirt and give it up so that you can eliminate the asshole altogether, I won’t tell you no, but let’s think about that when you’re sober, okay? A kiss won’t hurt anyone, but you might hate me if I encourage you to open your legs. It’s not your style.”

  He was right about that—I wasn’t promiscuous—but, in my fuzzy-logic brain, he had a point. If I was ever going to stop thinking about stupid Colin, I needed to knock that mouth from my dreams. He had some damn fine lips.

  Shit. Stef was right. “Who?”

  He spun me around and said, “See that fine ass over there?” I knew which one he meant. Khaki shorts hugged a tight butt, and below them lay a pair of sculpted calves that told me the guy was a runner. Broad shoulders, a mess of dark blond hair on his head, and I didn’t care if he was ugly from the front; he looked like sex walking from the back.

  “Sold!”

  “Good. Strike up a conversation and see if you can encourage him to dance with you on the next slower song. You can bump and grind him a bit, then kiss him. And I’ll swoop in to rescue you before it goes too far. Got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. But I wasn’t listening. I strode over to the stranger and tapped him on the shoulder. Before I really saw his face, so that I wouldn’t lose my nerve, I pressed my lips to his and closed my eyes. For a split second, he did nothing. And then he kissed me back.

  His lips moved against mine, and damn, could he kiss. I parted my lips, and he got the hint. A soft tongue swept into my mouth and arms wrapped around my back, a hand cradling my head. My hands dug into his silky, crazy hair, and I moaned. I think I heard him groan in response.

  He pulled back for some air, but he still held me in his arms. When he leaned away, my eyes focused on him more.

  Holy shit.

  A gorgeous grin spread across his face. “Finley Powell. How long has it been?” I’d been dreaming about that smile since the age of fourteen. No, he was not ugly from the front.