Authors: Danielle Sibarium
“Dinner music,” he announced picking up a small remote control.
After hearing the selection he put on I smiled, “Do you usually listen to classical music while dining?” I tried to sound sophisticated.
“No. But I had to take a music appreciation course in school and I learned to appreciate it.”
Impressed I recognized Bach’s Brandenberg concerto, I explained, “When I was little my father listened to classical music. He thought it would raise his IQ, and mine too. I got to like it. Listening makes me feel close to him somehow. But Bach is my favorite.”
Just then I thought about Jordan. Again. He just popped into my head like he always did. I doubted he ever listened to classical music. I forced him out of my mind. This night I wanted to spend with Charlie. Just Charlie.
“Have a seat,” He helped me with my chair.
Before settling himself down Charlie picked a bottle up, out of the ice bucket. He started fumbling with it until a loud pop was heard. The cork went flying up to the ceiling and bubbles overflowed.
“Champagne?” he asked.
I hesitated. I knew I shouldn’t drink. I remembered the last time I had the bright idea to drink alcohol. A good thing Jordan showed up when he did. And I knew the dangers of underage drinking, especially with a guy. But this was Charlie. I had nothing to worry about. He certainly wouldn’t take advantage of me. I hoped.
Besides, my mother let me have a glass of champagne on special occasions, like Christmas. Although she never afforded me the opportunity, I heard her tell Maria’s mother I should start getting used to drinking socially, since I planned to live on the college campus.
“I’d love some.”
“Great,” he said with a big smile.
Charlie poured while I watched in awe as it quickly effervesced. With only a minor overflow he raised his glass and waited for me to do the same.
“To my beautiful Stephanie, may you always be sweet as sugar and shine like the stars.”
I lifted the glass to my lips in turn. It tasted sweet. The bubbles and alcohol made it hard to swallow. I took another sip. Better. I just needed to get used to it.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken Marsala, roasted potatoes and creamed spinach,” he answered.
“Sounds delicious.”
“It is.”
“If you don’t say so yourself.” We both laughed.
I sat and waited for Charlie to serve me. No one but my mother ever went through the trouble of preparing a special dinner for me, although I wasn’t completely convinced his mother didn’t cook it and leave.
The food was delicious and plentiful. Every time I looked at my plate there was more food on it. I took the liberty of refilling my champagne glass until we emptied the bottle.
“Are you okay?” he asked as I poured my third glass.
“Don’t worry,” I told him, “it’s not like I never drank.” I wanted to appear older and experienced since I was competing with college girls who were older and more experienced.
“Is that so?”
I could tell he didn’t believe me. I thought for a moment how I might convince him. Instead I broke into laughter. It made him smile. I noticed a he had a sweet, tender look in his eyes. He never looked sexier.
I outstretched my hand looking for his. He took hold of it, his touch sensuous. Unfamiliar warmth spread throughout my body. Food no longer satiated my hunger. I didn’t want dessert. I wanted him.
“Do you feel as good as you look?” he asked.
“Never better.”
“Come here.”
Charlie backed up in his seat. He drew me over onto his lap. I sat sideways, my arms clasped around his neck, his arms around my waist. Tchaikovsky played in the background. The candles continued to flicker and burn, offering seductive shadows and sweet scents.
Sitting close only magnified my sudden desire. I not only wanted him, I needed him. His hold around my waist grew tighter. My body crushed against him, my lips sought after his. He tasted like champagne. Like a dream come true.
Moans of pleasure escaped his lips, as his hands ran up my back, under my shirt. Kiss after kiss seemed to bring us closer.
“Wait,” he whispered, removing me from his lap.
I didn’t like the distance he put between us. I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to be as close to him as I could physically be.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, insecurity flooding my mind.
“Not here.”
Charlie took a candle in one hand and led me with the other to his bedroom. He used the lit candle to light two strawberry votive candles. My focus on him obscured my sight of the rest of the room. I focused on one thing: Charlie.
Once I had his full attention again, I reached up and forced my lips on his, swirling my hands through his thick dark hair. The sudden force I found empowering me took him by surprise. He squeezed his arms around me tight, lifting me off the ground. Together we backed up clumsily until I fell backward onto the bed.
I looked up at him sheepishly and giggled. Charlie paused a moment and reached over toward his pillow. He handed me a single red rose. I took it and breathed in the sweet fragrant scent of the flower.
Charlie climbed on the bed and lay next to me. He took a petal from the rose and tenderly brushed my lips with it. I closed my eyes wanting to fully experience the intensity of each sensation.
“You are so beautiful. I could look at you forever.”
“Thank you” I mustered.
Charlie’s lips grazed the nape of my neck tickling me and making me squirm. The mood grew serious again when he slid his arm under the small of my back, pulling me against his warm, hard body. The other hand slid beneath my shirt.
“Charlie . . . ”
He moaned in response.
“I want to make love to you.”
I wondered, did I say that? Certainly the thought ran through my mind. To think it is one thing, to say it, something altogether different. I swallowed hard, unsure of what I should do next.
He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me, his eyes smoldering, “Are you sure?” he asked.
I nodded.
His lips again journeyed over my neck. He spoke between kisses. “I hoped you’d say that.”
Kissing became very intense and I felt myself quiver in his arms. Without thinking I took hold of his shirt and removed it, without any resistance or protest. I ran my hands against his bare chest.
“Make love to me,” I whispered.
I thought he was going to lose control. His lips came down against mine possessively before he spoke.
“I love you, Stephanie.” His breaths were deep, his chest heaving.
I couldn’t believe my ears. He loved me. His words only confirmed my thoughts. He loved me and I loved him. Everything was perfect.
“I love you too, Jordan.”
Eighteen
“Who the hell is Jordan?” Charlie bellowed.
“Nobody.” I swallowed hard trying to figure out how I could possibly talk my way out of this. “Just a friend.”
He pulled away. “You expect me to believe that?”
Of course I didn’t but I couldn’t tell him that. “Maria and I were talking and she mentioned his name. I guess it stuck in my head.”
“Stephanie, you didn’t call me by someone else’s name in conversation.” He sat on the side of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor.
“I know what you must be thinking but I didn’t mean it,” I lied.
I didn’t know what made me feel worse, lying to Charlie or denying my feelings for Jordan. What if this was some sort of a test to see if I really loved Jordan, and I blew it by renouncing him?
“Right.”
Charlie was cold. I couldn’t blame him. If in declaring his love for me at the most intimate moment of our relationship he’d called me by another girl’s name, I’d be all over it like sauce on spaghetti.
I moved closer to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. He leapt off the bed and flicked the lights on. I watched him contemplating his next move with a bewildered look on his face. I hurt him.
“Get up.”
The overt disgust in his voice managed to slice through me. The snarl of his mouth, and anger in his eyes, added to my humiliation, making me feel dirty and cheap. And very grateful nothing else happened I might have regretted.
“Don’t be like this,” I pleaded.
“Like what?” He snapped, “An idiot wasting my time with you while you try to screw another guy?”
Against my will, my eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want to cry but I wasn’t in control of my emotions. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
“I swear it’s not like that. We really are just friends. He doesn’t think of me like that.” I wished I kept my mouth shut. I understood I just poured gas onto the fire, changing it from a light flame to a five alarm blaze.
“Because if he did you’d be with him and not me.”
I shook my head. I could no longer speak as sobs racked my body and overpowered me. My mind failed me. I wasn’t used to that. I couldn’t think at all.
“C’mon,” he ordered. “I don’t want to be with you a minute longer than I have to.”
“Fine.” I made my way toward the front door.
He grabbed my arm forcefully, his fingers biting into my flesh. “I’m driving you home. It’s late, it’s dark and you’re obviously drunk.”
“Get off me!” I pulled hard and released my arm from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
He shook his head. “You know what? You’re a big girl. Do what the hell you want.”
I turned and looked at him once more, his green eyes ablaze. There was no turning back. No words of apology could mend what I’d wrecked.
I walked briskly almost all the way home. The houses and blocks passed quickly. They all looked the same through my tear-blurred vision. Only a block away from my house not wanting to see or talk to anyone, I stopped.
I sat on the cold hard pavement of the corner curb and sobbed desperately. I hugged my arms around my chest, trying to let go of all the pain, failing to do so. Charlie was out of my life for good. And I loved him.
The breakup didn’t send me reeling. The “how” of the breakup did. I prepared myself to split up over sex or another girl, as long as I could blame Charlie. But I couldn’t. I was to blame. I felt like a loser with a glow-in-the-dark capital L branded on my forehead.
The sudden sensation of human contact sent a heart stopping jolt of adrenaline through my body. Trembling in fear, I flew to my feet. Instantly, I’d sobered up and my tears were gone, forgotten. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands for a clear view of my attacker.
“Are you alright?” a male figure spoke.
The kind soothing voice took me off guard. I heard compassion in the words. I looked into the face and its familiarity sent me from my spiraling sense of certain demise into a pool of comfort.
Strong, steady arms reached to embrace me. I let him pull me close. The heat of his body warmed my heart. His fingers stroked my hair and his lips grazed my forehead. All was right with the world.
“Steph,” he whispered into the night air.
I breathed deep nasal breaths to calm down. I needed to regain my composure. I turned my face from him embarrassed.
“What happened?”
I shook my head, “It doesn’t matter.”
He pulled away slightly, so he could look down into my face. Gently he tilted my chin up to look into my eyes.
“Of course it matters.”
I wanted to blurt out, “It’s your fault,” but I remained silent.
“C’mon.”
He led me by the hand to his car parked across the street. I didn’t argue or decline. I didn’t ask where he planned on taking me. He could have led me to a pit of snakes and I wouldn’t have cared so long as he was there.
“You need food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You smell like alcohol. That tells me you need food.”
“You think you know everything.”
He smiled that delicious, flirtatious smile I adored, “I do. When it comes to you.