Original publication date October 6, 2015
I tell Graham I’ll meet him back here tonight at seven.
“Brielle, be careful. Call me for anything, okay?”
I make myself smile. I know he means to be careful of the Goths. Now that I’ve outright refused Alexander, they might be a little unpredictable. “I’ll be fine, and, um, I don’t have your phone number. I once had it memorized, but…”
“Then let me give it to you,” he says, holding out his hand for my phone. He goes into my messages and sends himself a text. “There. Now you have it.” He smirks, knowing I saw what he just did, giving him my number as well.
I go to the Goth house to find it deserted. So, I quickly make my way up to my room, gather as many clothing and personal items I can carry in my old bookbag, write a note for Alex’s parents, and leave the house.
Not knowing what else to do, I go hang out at the club again. Inspiration hits, and I ask for a job. They have an opening for a bar tender! I don’t know what I’m doing, but the manager acts like that’s no big deal, and they get to training me straight away. By the time six o’clock rolls around, I’m tired but happy with a few dollars in my pocket from a handful of tips, and I go to the ladies’ room to get ready for my date tonight with Graham.
I immediately love the little restaurant. They seat us next to the window on the water side of the boat, which is perfect by me.
I stop looking around when I notice Graham staring at me, a small smile on his lips.
He looks hot. I’ve never seen a man that wore suit coats so well. He has to get them custom tailored for him. I love what he’s done with the whole handkerchief thing making him look more formal yet the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, making the formal deceptively-casual. I fantasize about lightly running my fingernail just under the second button and then slowly up to his throat.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
“That is definitely your color,” he tells me, sounding ludicrously happy underneath the relaxed exterior. “I used to think red was, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”
I look down at the tablecloth. “Sade bought this for me. She claimed I wore too much red.” Bella liked putting me in red.
“Then I’ll have to thank her when I meet her,” he replies, reminding me how much I truly love the sound of his voice.
“She wanted to meet you last night, but-” I stop talking, not sure if I want Graham to know how I wanted to tackle her, how I actually did tell her to back off.
“Oh?” he prompts.
“Yeah,” I reply evasively. I quickly look around to find another topic.
“But what?” Graham asks, insisting I explain the ‘but.’
“Hm?” I ask, pretending not to know what he means.
“She wanted to meet me but what?” he clarifies.
Damn! I bite my lip. “But she didn’t.”
“What was stopping her?” he asks me knowingly. “I spoke to almost no one last night, too distracted by watching a raven-haired goddess in a red dress, so she could’ve come up to me if she wanted.”
“All right. Fine. I was stopping her. Happy?” My voice sounds snappy, but inside, I float from him calling me a raven-haired goddess.
“Happier than I’ve been in over a year, but that has nothing to do with your jealous streak.” He grins triumphantly.
“My jealous streak?” I ask him playfully. “Who’s to say that I just didn’t want her finding out you weren’t really my tutor?”
His grin doesn’t fade. “I like the tutor story. I wish I’d thought of that. Your tutor: what a perfect excuse. After all, you missed a lot of school. You needed help catching up.”
“And history was my worst subject,” I admit quietly.
“And history was your worst subject!” he pronounces happily. “See? Who better than a local professor with time on his hands?”
I sober up. “They wouldn’t have hired you.”
Anger crosses his eyes as he replies, “Yes. I know. Perhaps my worst move was letting Mortimer know I wanted to date you. For some reason, I thought he’d be okay with it since I did everything I could to help find you. With his permission, we could have.”
I fold my hands in my lap and look down at them. “Graham, I wasn’t in any state to date anyone.”
“I know. But I could’ve at least seen you! I could’ve been there to help you however I could.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Please don’t take this badly…”
“But?”
“But I wasn’t letting anyone help me. In fact, you would’ve been bad for me. It’s because I knew you were attracted to me…and your age…” I hear him let out a pained breath, and it breaks my heart. “I don’t know how old he was, but he was old enough to date my sister, around your age. I’m sorry. Anything and anyone that reminded me or made me think of it, I shoved away from me with as much force as I could.” I still don’t open my eyes. “That would’ve been really bad for us.”
“You’re right,” he says solemnly. The entire mood of our date has changed for the worse. I hate it, but at the same time, perhaps it’s better to air these things out now. “I just missed you so badly it caused me physical pain, pain that was apparently visible to my friend.”
Friend… I open my eyes angrily, knowing about whom he speaks.
He reads my glare. “We started out as friends, yes. She knew I was in love with someone, someone I couldn’t be with for a reason I didn’t tell her. Then, I found out she was attracted to me.”
“How?” I ask viciously. I want to know.
He winces. “I was working late, and she came in to tell me I needed to go home, never mind how she had also been working late. She told me I looked exhausted, and I explained to her why didn’t want to go home, as much as I could tell her. I was, truly, exhausted like she said. I don’t know who moved first, her or me, but I kissed her.”
I move to get up. I need to take a walk.
“Please don’t run away, Brielle,” he steadfastly requests, holding up his hand. I look back at him in shock, surprised he’d call it that. “You asked, remember? And at any rate, I’d just come after you anyway.”
I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. Graham stays silent while I soak up the information he just gave me, trying to look at it with an objective eye. I see the two of them in his office, and I suddenly imagine it through her eyes: hot younger man that wants comforting…
A realization hits me. “She… took… advantage of you.”
He stupidly defends his friend. “No. She wanted to comfort me.”
I shake my head no. “Even if it was you that kissed her instead of her kissing you, she still should’ve realized that you were in a vulnerable state. As a true friend, she should’ve stayed back and found another way to help you.”
“No,” he still denies. “No, it wasn’t like that. True, I didn’t love her, but…” He gets quiet for a minute. “She just couldn’t stand to see me hurting…” He lets his voice trail off again. He starts to get it, but I want to further prove it to him.
“Tell me about your first date with her since I interrupted the second one,” I request masochistically.
“We went to dinner, spending most of the time talking about our students, exchanging woes and triumphs. I drove her home and… kissed her on her front porch. She invited me inside, but I declined.” He lets out a worried breath through his nose before quickly breathing in again.
I do my best to fight away the pain of the mental image of Graham kissing that woman goodnight, of Graham kissing that woman in his office, and I try to focus on her motives instead. She wanted his body. True cougar attack.
“What did she do when you declined?” I ask.
“Brielle, why do you want to talk about this?” he asks in a pained voice. “I don’t want to do anything to screw tonight up. I want to answer truthfully, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can understand that logic, but I also understand that evasive tactic you just used,” I say sternly.
“She tried to… convince me, and I don’t want to tell you how. I want to talk about something else. Please,” he says, his voice sounding angry at first then pleading.
I meet his beautiful eyes. “All right. I think I’ve had enough of that topic anyway.” And I think if you get a chance to think about it on your own, you’ll come to the conclusion that I came to.
He puts his hands on the table very close to me, palm up, in a wordless gesture to ask to hold mine. I tentatively bring them off my lap and place them in his. Once they touch his, he grasps them firmly.
“I’m so, so happy that tonight is happening at all. Finally, we’re together again, and this time, nothing and no one stands in our way. I am full-on asking for another chance, a real chance. Time has not changed how I feel for you. I’ve often thought that perhaps it was a good thing that we met when we did, even if you were too young at the time. When I was out taking a walk that night, I was wondering what the hell I was doing in a new town like I was where I knew nobody. I wondered if I’d ever meet anyone or if I’d spend my days alone.” A small smile graces his lips. “Then, I get to the park and see someone else out for a midnight stroll, brushing something off her pant leg, and when she moved her head back up, her hair glinted in the moonlight like a beacon. I thought I’d at least go introduce myself, and well, you know the rest.” His smile grows.
I love him, I realize in shocking clarity. That’s why it hurt so bad to lose him. That’s why I could never really love Grayson or Alex. My heart already belonged to him.
Why has this only occurred to me now?
Graham listens to my silence with patient affection. His thumbs caress my knuckles, and he continues, “Had I not met you when I did, I may never have. Or, we would’ve met under different circumstances, having made different choices. The circumstances under which we met were hard as hell to live through, but I’m glad I did.” He looks me deep in the eye, trying to read my expression. I wonder if he can see my recent thoughts on my face. “Are you?”
“Y-yes,” I answer, still trying to piece it all together. I love him, so what do I do now?
I’m scared.
‘You realize you’ve always loved him. What have you always BEEN doing, Brielle?’
Pushing him away, I immediately answer my inner voice.
‘Well, don’t do THAT,’ it reprimands me. ‘Not now. He’s right. Now, there’s nothing standing in your way.’
“So,” Graham says, his head tilting and his eyes resting on our hands, “does that mean you’re okay with starting over? Well, maybe not starting OVER, but again.”
“I am,” I say with a tiny bit more enthusiasm than I first intended.
A mildly-humorous smile plays about his lips while his eyebrows twitch together for a second. “Are you okay? You look a little dazed.”
“Hello, welcome to the Magnolia Matron,” our waiter says, breaking the spell. Graham lets me have my hands back, and I smile at him while he watches me. The waiter apologizes for the delay and explains the specials, but I hardly listen to him. I have no idea what I end up ordering.
—————————————————————————
I designed the Magnolia Matron. I won’t put it up for download because it’s really simple.
chainreactionlegacy.wordpress.com 