I didn’t believe him. Now I do. Now I know I was.
Never would I have predicted I’d be with him years later. My love for him has kept me by his side. His looks—lady-killer looks—but that’s not enough. I wouldn’t be here three years later because he has a face I love to look at. I stay because our souls have melded together over time. I ache from his absence when he’s away too long. The hours are weights that drag me down. The heavy chains are broken the moment I see him. Time flies when we’re together. He’s an addiction I can’t break, and one I don’t want to. But for my innocence he stole, he’s given me life and love that far exceeds the loss. My heart soars with him.
There have been times over the years I’ve questioned whether I should stay. There was no question to my love because the answer was unyielding. It almost didn’t matter what Alexander Kingwood IV did or hid from me, because my soul was sold to him the day we met. It was in that moment that I knew I was meant to love him and harbor his sins in my safe haven.
It was a job I took seriously. So yes, maybe I was na?ve when we met, but now I know what I’ve gotten myself into and I refuse to get myself out because my life wouldn’t exist without him being a part of it.
Hidden behind exorbitantly expensive designer clothes, his secrets have multiplied, layering the burdens he carries in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. I believe there are lies that will destroy him, and most likely me.
Yet, here I am.
Loyal to his misguided labors, protecting myself is a skill I’ve honed. Alexander would never hurt me, but I feel pain is the only byproduct of a future with him.
Yet, here I am.
Feeling like the little girl once again, I’ve fallen for blue-sky eyes and a smile so bright I swear the stars’ shine was stolen in the night. To the outside world, he’s King. To me, he’s Alexander. Everything.
I had plans. Big plans, like finishing my junior year, then my senior year as unscathed as possible. Freedom would be found in attending a university far from here. I’d start fresh. I’d become who I wanted, who I was meant to be before my heart took over my head. I knew what was next, but I never saw him coming, and then it was too late . . .
The rain is so thick I can’t see beyond it. I grab my umbrella from my locker, swing my backpack onto my shoulder, and head out to go home.
I pop the button that sends my umbrella up but one step outside the building and my socks and shoes are instantly soaked. It’s not a long walk home, but in the rain it feels like miles more. Needing a quick reprieve, I stop inside the grocery store, grab a Payday candy bar, then head to checkout. I’ve seen the cashier a million times. Gray hair tangled into a low bun in the back. She smiles, and says, “Awful day to be outside.”
“I like the rain.” Have I ever been convinced by my own words?
She’s definitely not. Her glasses slide down her nose as she studies me. My white cotton shirt is sticking to me, my plaid skirt drenched and dripping on the store floor. “You need to borrow a raincoat?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“Seventy-five cents. Head straight home. I’m sure your parents won’t want you sick.”
My parents. I sigh louder than I intend. At seventeen, I still dream of a car one day, but my dad reminds me that being born is the only privilege I’ve deserved. I roll my eyes and set my dollar down. “Thanks.”
Waiting at the corner of a busy intersection to cross the street, I take a bite. The rain lets up and the pedestrian crossing sign beeps, but I don’t move. Not one step. Not to chew. Not even to breathe.
My heart balloons in my chest and despite the rain and humidity, my throat goes dry. Across the intersection rumbles a Harley-Davidson. I recognize the style of bike from watching TV, but it’s not the bike that holds my attention. It’s the man who rides it. His hair is darkened from the rain, but light enough for me to guess it’s probably medium brown when dry. A section has fallen over his forehead, resting on the tips of his eyelashes, probably to his dismay. Light, but angry eyes are directed at me, a hard stare that makes my heart race, fear coursing through my veins. The intensity invades my body in ways I’ve never felt before, confusing my thoughts and causing me to look away. I’m not scared of him, but I am frightened by the emotion welling inside me.
The signal to cross the street stops beeping, and I’m stuck on the corner under a thieving glare. Parts of my soul I didn’t know existed are exposed, and I drag my hand down the front pleats of my skirt. My breath comes short when our eyes meet again, and the candy falls from my hand. I summon every ounce of bravery and give as good as I’m getting, glaring right back. But I can’t hold it. He’s not a boy. He’s the guy my parents warned me about.
Turning away quickly, embarrassment comes as fast. I must look like a drowned rat and even worse, I’m stuck in my school uniform under the microscope of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Even though I’m not looking at him, I just know that nothing breaks his stare. I feel his gaze penetrating my body, touching me deep down in ways I barely know how to reach. My face heats as my body blooms, the petals of my innocence unfolding for him. “Hold on. Don’t lose yourself.” Licking my lips, I know I could. For him I would.
A loud horn sounds, startling me. The toes of my shoes are off the edge, much like the thoughts of him possessing me in ways that would send me to confessional.
Thank God for small miracles. The light turns green, and his bike is revved before he takes off, leaving a trail of rain water behind him.
How is it possible that every last warning of what to heed embodies that man? I’ve never so desperately wanted to break every rule in the book until now. I could swear his middle name is Danger, and I’m intrigued enough to need to know his first.
I don’t look back over my shoulder. I don’t follow the sound of his bike as it drives into the distance. I don’t allow myself to fall any further than I have already. I cross the street, not noticing the clouds have cleared or that the sun is peeking out. I walk like the last few minutes haven’t changed my whole life, the makeup of my thoughts, and twisted my chemistry to match a man’s I’ll never meet.
At the next street, I turn the corner and stop. The motorcycle is there, but I barely notice it behind the man standing in front. His smile makes my knees weak and his eyes make my heart speed up again.
Fear.
Fear of what I already know I’m willing to do for him.
Fear of what lies ahead when I find out that first name.
Fear of the trouble that’s wrapped as tightly as the leather across his shoulders.
Fear of everything he possesses.