Love Love Read online

  Copyright © 2013 by Beth Michele

  Smashwords Edition 2013

  ***

  Copyright © 2013 by Beth Michele

  Smashwords Edition 2013

  Cover Design by Richard Luciano

  Editing by Erin Roth, Wise Owl Editing

  Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  All rights reserved. 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 permission in writing.

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

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  ***

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For Clara.

  Your spirit wraps around my heart,

  but I miss your smile every day.

  ***

  This was the moment I’d waited for my entire life, or so I thought. That’s if you consider twenty-two years an entire life. It started out as a perfect day, but perfection can be an illusion.

  Our blue gowns were fanning the breeze as we made our way up to the podium. The wind blowing through my hair made me feel alive and free. I was inches away from my long awaited independence. All those days I sat on the bleachers, watching UC Berkeley football games and daydreaming about life after college, and it was finally here. My feet were making their way up the stairs quickly. They had a mind of their own and I had difficulty keeping up with them. They obviously knew something I didn’t.

  Mr. Shorley shook my hand firmly as he happily handed me my degree. The sun’s rays bouncing off the paper gave it a rare glow. This was my golden ticket. Even better than a lifetime supply of Wonka bars.

  As I walked across the stage, I caught a glimpse of Clark and Fran. Clark gave me a wink that made my insides melt, and Fran mooned me. Her heart-shaped ass catching the summer wind was her unusual way of congratulating me. It made me smile. My parents however, didn’t have the same reaction; I caught their grimaces, the warm air surrounding me suddenly stale and cold.

  The graduation party at my house was rip-roaring. The music was blaring, the alcohol flowing, and the hips grinding. The party was a lot more than my parents bargained for when they agreed to it. The adults were outside on the moonlit patio, tossing down hard liquor and blowing smoke rings, while the graduates were inside bringing down the house. I was with my two favorite people. Clark Thompson, my boyfriend since high school, and Fran Heller, my best friend of fifteen years.

  Fran and I met in fourth grade. Her mom moved her from the Bronx to California to get away from her physically abusive asshole dad. She’s had a tough life, but given the hand she was dealt, she always manages to remain optimistic. I admire that about her. She comes across like she’s hard when really, she’s anything but. Thinking about Fran always makes me smile. We had an instant connection. They used to call me “Candy Girl” in elementary school because I was always either eating candy or giving it away. From the moment Fran slipped a Hershey’s Bar under my desk in fourth grade, she had me, and we had each other.

  Clark and I met our sophomore year of high school. I was standing at my locker in between classes and the hallway was packed. My head was buried in books when something crashed hard against my back. Turned out it was Gavin Boone, quarterback of our crappy football team. He wasn’t looking where the hell he was going, lucky for me. I was knocked to the ground, and when I looked up, I was met by baby blues and a forehead crinkle. Clark.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Never better,” I said, rolling my eyes, trickles of pain shooting up my spine.

  In the midst of the run in, my bag spilled with all of my personal belongings. I watched in horror as the evidence of my adolescence covered the ground. Clark bent down to help me, and without batting an eye, proceeded to scoop up the Playtex tampons and put them back in the box. He made a beeline right for them. Who does that? When he was done, he bumped my shoulder and shrugged his. “It’s just life, right?”

  He was the one who embraced my soul in the palm of his hands. The one who lent his ear while I rambled endlessly about my parents and all their bullshit. He was the one who supported me when I fell on my ass and the one whose broad shoulders carried all of my tears.

  Clark introduced me to surprises. Bringing me flowers after school just because. Leaving bags of Hershey’s Kisses in my locker with little notes like “I love you, sweetness.” Even blindfolding me and taking me on little adventures to the beach, my favorite place in the world.

  God, I loved Clark. He made me giggle and gave me those crazy butterflies. In high school, we’d make out under the bleachers, in his car, basically anywhere we could get our hands on each other. A single wink from him would cause my heart to explode, and that musky scent of his drove me beyond the borders of desire. I lost my virginity to Clark when we were seventeen. We were so in love, and while it was incredibly romantic, honestly, it hurt like hell. Nothing like you see in the movies. But Clark was gentle and sweet, and never made me feel the least bit embarrassed or uncomfortable, even when he saw spots of blood on the sheet. While Clark had experienced sex before, that was my first time, and it was glaringly obvious. Nonetheless, I’ll never forget it. He moved inside of me with such tenderness and cradled me with his touch. Afterwards, he gently touched his lips to mine before walking away and coming back with a warm washcloth. “Let me clean you up Angel.” Could he have been any sweeter?

  “Gabby.” A voice startled me from my nostalgic moment. My beloved mother. It’s fascinating that even over the loud music, I could still hear the shrill of her voice. “I’d like to speak with you for a minute.”

  I cupped my hand to my ear. “What?” I said, pretending I didn’t hear her.

  “I need to speak with you, dear,” she said again, her face set with a frown so deep it was probably where the term frown lines came from.

  My mother followed behind me, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as I walked toward the sliding glass doors leading to the patio. I pulled open the handle, only
to be met by a blast of muggy air and the heavy stench of cigarette smoke. She grabbed my hand to stop me.

  “No, not outside dear. Let’s go in the hallway.”

  We made our way down the hall and she stopped short, shaking her head as she glanced up and down my body at the white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and blue Converse sneakers I’d decided to wear.

  “Gabby. This is a party. Don’t you think you could have chosen something a bit more festive, like a dress perhaps?” She was impeccably dressed, as always, in her emerald blue Vera Wang silk dress and her black Manolo Blahnik slingbacks. Her sleek brown hair was pulled up in a perfect bun, complete with diamond clip, and her makeup was flawless, almost as if she’d just left the Chanel counter at the mall.

  “Mom,” I began, the alcohol causing my words to slur a bit. “When was the last time you saw me in a dress? You know I don’t like to wear them. Remember, you’re always telling me they make my hips look too curvy and my legs look too thin?”

  She fanned her hand in front of her face. “My God, Gabby, you smell like a brewery. I don’t think you should have anything else to drink.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Mom. First of all, this is a graduation party; and secondly, I’m twenty-two years old, how much I drink is currently up to me.”

  She clenched her fists at her sides and rolled her eyes at me, a look of pure disgust crossing her face. “I also didn’t realize Clark’s parents were going to be here.”

  I had to contain myself from hauling back and shaking around any sense that might have been left in my mother’s body. “Mom, Clark and I have been together for seven years, and this is our graduation day; of course his parents are going to be here.”

  My parents were not fans of Clark’s mom and dad. The mail clerk and the bus driver just didn’t meet their social status requirements.

  I tried my best distraction technique. “Where’s Dad?”

  My mother sucked her teeth. “He’s out back with his latest girlfriend.”

  “I haven’t seen Olivia either. Where is she?”

  “Olivia had another party to go to,” she said nonchalantly.

  “Of course. Another one that was more important than her own sister’s.” I let out a sarcastic laugh and felt Clark’s warm hand on my shoulder.

  “Hello, Mrs. Willis,” Clark greeted her with a broad smile.

  “Hello, Clark,” my mother replied, years of disapproval sliding off her tongue.

  My parents were never Clark’s biggest fans. The fact that he loved me and was so good to me didn’t impress them. They wanted me to marry rich and live in the big mansion on a perfect tree-lined street, complete with manicured lawn, fountain, and in-ground pool; perfect replica of our house. Thanks, but no thanks. Granted, they weren’t the best role models for long-lasting relationships. My parents were high school sweethearts, but thirty years later they hated each other. That wasn’t going to be me and Clark. We could get through anything.

  My mom made a tisking sound then skulked away. Clark took my hand and led me into the small den where I used to watch television as a child. The only room that was suitable for us to play in growing up so we didn’t destroy the near perfection of the rest of the house. He sat me down on the yellow sofa, stained with years of chocolate milk spills and my favorite purple marker, ran his fingers through my chestnut strands, then tucked my hair behind my ear.

  “Talk to me, Angel, what did your mother do now?”

  I looked around the room at years of childhood memories. Family photographs from our trip to Disney World, a cuckoo clock that I always got in trouble for playing with, the piano where I learned how to play Chopsticks. “Nothing’s ever good enough for her, you know? I don’t remember the last time either of them had a kind word to say about me. I’m just one giant disappointment in their eyes.” I continued to stare at a spot on the yellow couch.

  “Angel, look at me.” Clark lifted my chin and stroked his fingers gently across my cheek. “Your mom doesn’t define you. You define you, and from where I’m standing, you’re doing a damn good job.” He moved closer and kissed me softly. Taking my hand, he lifted up one finger and kissed it. “Let’s see: you’re smart.” He lifted another one and surrounded it with his lips. “You’re funny as hell.” Another finger arrived at his mouth for a kiss. “You’re caring and kind.” He pulled my pinky to his mouth for a final kiss. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful. So, screw your mom. I’d say you’ve defined yourself pretty well.” Clark wrapped his comforting arms around me and suddenly all was right with the world. “Come on, let’s go back out there and celebrate the beginning of the rest of our lives.”

  The party was rocking. Fran and I continued to get a serious buzz on while Clark eyed us amusingly. For some reason, he decided not to drink tonight, but that never stopped him from having a good time. I was definitely enjoying myself. My new sense of freedom was washing over me like a giant wave crashing on the shore. This was really it. I’d finally be out on my own and out of the grasp of people who I constantly disappointed. I couldn’t wait to surround myself with people who would lift me up, not drag me down. I’ve had way too much of that and it was time to navigate my own future with Clark by my side. Hell, I might even wear a dress.

  We were hanging out on the makeshift dance floor. Clark’s hands were roaming, our hips were swaying, and we were all dancing our free little hearts out. The fuzzy feeling in my head caused me to react as Clark pressed his firm body against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and plunged my tongue into his mouth, relishing the familiar taste of him. When I pulled back, I could see Fran staring at us, probably because we were practically making out in public. I didn’t care, Clark turned me on in ways I never imagined, and there wasn’t a moment that went by that I didn’t crave his touch, his lips, his everything.

  He leaned in close to my ear and his warm breath blew a breeze my way, causing me to shiver. “Angel, let’s get out of here. I need to be alone with you.” The look in his eyes told me he wanted me, not to mention the stiffness I felt pressing against my thigh. I wanted him, too. “There’s somewhere I want to take you,” his hot breath whispered and his musky scent overtook my senses. When he looked at me with those persuasive baby blues, it was hard to say no.

  “Okay, babe. Let me just tell Fran we’re leaving, and then I’m all yours.” I pulled him to me and planted a large, wet kiss on his soft lips; he grabbed me and deepened it. His tongue explored mine tenderly, sucking gently, while his arms brought me in to him. When I broke the kiss, I heard him exhale with a sigh.

  I walked up to Fran, who was doing the bump and grind with our friend Ashley. She was seriously plastered. “Fran, Clark and I are going out for a bit. We’ll be back.”

  Fran gave me a big smacker right on the lips. Yup, she was hammered all right. “Okay sweetie. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She cackled relentlessly and continued her drunken dance.

  Clark interlaced his fingers through mine as we walked out to the car.

  “So where are we going, babe?” I asked, my mind open to all possibilities.

  “It’s a surprise, Angel. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  We drove for less than a mile before I realized exactly where we were headed. Clark’s house. His empty house. That made me smile. There’s only one thing I wanted right now, and that was Clark…inside of me.

  When we pulled in the driveway, Clark cut the engine. The look that crossed his face wasn’t one I’d seen before, so I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “Angel, I need you to stay here for just a minute, okay?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just wait here a minute and then I’ll be back to get you.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave me a quick kiss and then slammed the door shut behind him. My mind was working overtime. He seemed nervous. What on earth was he doing? It felt like forever before he returned to the car. Coming around to the passenger side, he opened my door and helped me out.
Immediately, I grabbed him and pressed my breasts against his tight chest, giving him a sneak preview of what was to come.

  “Come on, hot stuff,” he said, tangling his fingers with mine and leading me around to the backyard.

  As we rounded the corner, I stopped in my tracks and my heart started racing. My eyes were taking in everything all at once. The deck was covered in little white Christmas tree lights. A table sat in the center with a crisp white tablecloth and a vase of crimson red roses in the middle; it was set for two. I heard Train playing softly on the CD player sitting next to the weathered charcoal grill. My feet were frozen, my insides tingled, and my brain was running at mach speed. I spun around and looked at Clark.

  “What is all this?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Happy graduation, Angel.”

  Wrapping my arms around his waist, I leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. “I love you so much,” I said as our noses rubbed together and our lips melted into one another.

  Clark settled me in my chair and walked back into the house. I suddenly felt very sober, keenly aware of everything that was happening in that moment. It seemed impossible that I could love Clark any more than I already did, yet every day he did something to make my heart fuller. I sat there with a goofy grin plastered on my face, awaiting his return. He came out moments later with two white plates holding dark chocolate lava cake surrounded by two Twizzlers forming a heart, with whipped cream on the side. My absolute favorite.

  “Thank you, babe,” I said, my heart so full and my body so damned turned on by his kindness. “I’m not really hungry though. Well…I am…but only for one thing.”

  Clark let out a hearty, sexy laugh, and licked his lips. “Eat, Angel. You’re going to need your strength.”

  Oh.

  He didn’t say much while we were eating, but I felt his eyes on me. When we were done, he took my hand and led me to the brown wicker couch that sat facing his mother’s plentiful garden. He sweetly took my face in his hands and I relaxed into him. His thumb caressed my cheekbone and my eyelids fluttered closed. His touch always did that to me. When I opened my eyes, he was staring deeply into them.