MELONY
“It’s supposed to be lined with gold silk. Is that too much to ask?” Bellini shouts, flinging dog clothing in the air and stomping away, Pocket trailing after her like a lovesick puppy.
I still can’t look at her the same after seeing her weirdly shaped body and all the hair . . . Christ, the hair. It haunts me in my dreams. I still don’t get her nipples. Why were they like that?
“For heaven’s sake stop breathing so loud,” Bellini shouts again to who I can only assume is Pocket. They are both upstairs now, giving me a break from Bellini’s incessant whining.
It’s been non-stop since I arrived to do her hair and makeup. Even though she has nowhere to be or any filming, she still demands I do her hair and makeup. Not every day, thank God, but enough that I get to cash in. Fine by me. A few hours of work for a good chunk of change doesn’t bother me. Pays to be able to erase the devil off someone’s face and actually make them look like a presentable human being.
Paisley walks into the room where I have my makeup set up and she asks, “What was she bitching about now?”
Over the last few weeks, Paisley and I have become pretty close, which is nice since I don’t have many friends. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about Bellini who actually understands what I go through daily. Usually my mom is my outlet but she doesn’t get Bellini. I don’t think many people do.
“Something about her religious wear for her dog line. Who knows? She could have a cuticle out of place and she starts crying about it.”
“True.” Paisley thinks for a second and then leans forward and whispers, “Is it weird that I had a dream that I slapped her in the face with a seat belt last night?”
“A seat belt?” I laugh. “Might be a little weird that you used a seat belt instead of the sweet satisfaction of a paddle, but the slapping part? No, that sounds about right.”
“A paddle?” Paisley winces. “That seems a little harsh.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Work here as long as I have and you won’t think it’s harsh anymore.”
“How can you put up with her for so long? I’ve only been here for a while, and I’m already at my maximum capacity of what I can take.”
“Kind of helps that her fake boyfriend is your boyfriend.” I wink and she blushes.
“Shh, God, don’t say that too loud.”
“Please, I would never blow your cover. Reese is happy, and I love seeing him like that. Plus, I like you, I would never do anything to hurt our budding relationship.” I chuckle from my words.
“Whenever anyone says budding, I always think of my teenage years when my mom gave me a sports bra for my ‘buds.’ It was a difficult time for me.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Pretty sure every girl’s first bra was a difficult time. I remember my first pube; looked like Tweety Bird down there with a few single hairs poking out.”
Paisley busts out in laughter. “I can’t even with that visual right now. We need to change the subject.”
“Yeah? Let’s talk about you and Reese.” I smile, knowing damn well Paisley won’t say anything.
“Let’s not,” she says under her breath, giving me a warning look.
Chuckling to myself, I start to pack my makeup.
“What about you?” she asks, a knowing look in her eyes.
“What about me?”
“You looked awfully cozy with Hollis at Reese’s little gathering.”
“Cozy? Is that what you want to call it?” I pass off her assumption as nothing, even though warning bells are ringing in my head. “More like he annoys the shit out of me.”
“Yeah?” That smirk won’t leave her face. She’s acting like she’s caught me red-handed. “Then why did you ride together?”
“Being good environmentalists. Reduce, reuse, recycle, and carpool.” I add that last part on the end. “Someone has to look out for this planet. Don’t you want your grandchildren to be able to enjoy grass one day?”
“Mm-hmm, environmentalists. Sounds kinky.”
“Oh, you caught us,” I say sarcastically. “We get off by planting seeds. Show me a reusable bag and I start humping everything in sight. And don’t get me started on the threesomes we have with our very own leader of the green initiative, Leonardo DiCaprio. The smell coming from his plastic body really gets my solar-powered engine revving.”
Paisley studies me for a second and then says, “Leonardo would never be a plastic-based blow-up doll.”
Thoughtful. She’s right, he wouldn’t.
“You got me there. He would be hemp. It would be like sexing a burlap bag.” I cringe and place my hand over my crotch. “Pretty sure that would chafe for days.”
“At least when you’re done, you could plant him in the backyard and hope for a dildo tree to sprout in a few days,” she offers.
“Hemp-stuffed Leonardo DiCaprio sex doll. Multipurpose kinky toy. Get an orgasm, grow a tree of one hundred more. I can really see this becoming a best seller.”
Paisley taps her chin with her pen. “You’re going to want a good infomercial.”
“Hey, maybe I can get that lady who sells the Red Copper Pan on TV. She’s freaking good. I bought one of those just because she drove a car over the pan and it didn’t bend. If she can sell me a pan when I don’t cook, then she can sell a hemp-stuffed Leonardo sex doll.”
“I think it’s her hair, she’s so vibrant,” Paisley adds.
“I would pay good money to watch that lady hump hemp.”
“Oddly enough, so would I,” Paisley agrees and then laughs. “Wow, what the hell were we even talking about?”
Hollis, but I won’t remind her of that.
“Can’t remember. I’m so caught up with this Leonardo idea. Do you think I could replicate Leonardo’s face with—?”
“Oh, we were talking about Hollis,” Paisley interrupts with a smile on her face. “Let’s go back to that.”
“Let’s not.”
“Come on, you have to tell me something.”
“I have to?” I question with a laugh.
“Yes, it will make us closer. Let’s do some girl sharing.”
Paisley sits in a chair next to my station and props her chin in her hand as she leans on one of the tables. Exhaling loudly, I realize she isn’t going to drop the topic.
“Fine, you get one thing. Don’t ask for anything else.”
“Promise.” She crosses her heart.
Hmm . . . what to tell her. Definitely not about last night, even though having an orgasm just from nipple play is worthy of conversation, I don’t want her to know that. I will keep that little nugget to myself. I don’t want to tell her about our hand-holding bet because then she will ask how I lost and I don’t want to tell her about my knowledge of her welcome mat blowy—despite how hot that is. Hollis jacking off in front of me is also off limits because that would be giving in way too much. Plus, I want to keep that image of his straining muscles, the look of pure ecstasy on his face all to myself. And oh, what an image. I will never need a Leonardo doll when I have the image of Hollis jacking off in my mind.
So what does that leave? Random text messages? That won’t get her off my back . . .
“Well?” she prods.
“Uh . . . you know he’s my neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” She nods, looking for more.
Oh, I got it.
Smiling, I say, “Last night I was getting ready for a run, stretching—”
“You stretched before you ran?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Save the lecture, I already got one. I get it, I need to warm my muscles before I start stretching.”
“Ooo, did Hollis lecture you about it?” She’s so giddy it’s almost annoying . . . almost.
“He did.” I sigh. “He saw me last night from his window and came down to see what I was doing. He then proceeded to jog with me even though he had a serious workout that day.”
Paisley shakes her head and laughs. “That boy has it so bad for you.”
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. What we want are totally different things and the last thing I want to do is hurt someone, especially someone who “has it bad for me.” What I don’t get is why he won’t give up.
“Reese was telling me the other day how much Hollis likes you,” Paisley continues, drawing my attention. “Hollis is apparently convinced that you two will get married one day. It’s so cute. He’s actually a really sweet man. From what Reese has told me, Hollis doesn’t sleep around, but only sleeps with women he’s very serious about; he’s always been a relationship guy. You don’t find guys like that very often.”
Yeah, I never find guys like that because they don’t exist. At least, not for me.
But if I had to take a guess, Hollis might be as close to that illustrious, yet mythical man as they come.
Paisley sighs and says, “I’m not going to lie, Melony, he really likes you. Reese said he’s never seen him act the way he does when he’s around you.” She pauses for a second and then asks the one question I really didn’t want to answer. “Do you like him?”
Ugh, this feels like middle school. Did Hollis set Paisley up to ask these questions? I wouldn’t put it past him. The man is not afraid to ask anyone to help him out when he’s in pursuit. Hell, he even threw his friend under the table with some juicy gossip just to hold my hand.
“Melon! My lips are chapped,” Bellini calls from the hallway, using my stupid nickname that she gave me. “I need ChapStick or I might actually die. Pronto. Melon!”
Saved by the bitch . . . unfortunately.
Shrugging at Paisley and avoiding the question altogether, I secure Bellini’s favorite ChapStick in my hand and take off down the hallway, Paisley’s voice echoing through my mind.
He really likes you.
Yup, and I led him on last night. Crap, What does he think of “us” now?
He’s probably already picked out my wedding dress and the song we’ll dance to for our first dance.
Fantastic. I just don’t get why. Why me?
***
“Hey Mom.” I answer my phone, putting it on speaker as I navigate my way home. “How are you?”
“Good. Just got off work and thought I would give my little girl a call. I was thinking about coming up on Sunday to see you. Are you available?”
“I think I have to style the devil in the morning but I’m free the rest of the day. By the time you drive up here, I’m sure I’ll be done.”
“Oh perfect. I thought maybe we could go get pedicures. My feet are looking a little like snaggle claws.”
I laugh, turning into my apartment complex. “What the hell are snaggle claws, Mom?”
“You know,” she pauses to think and then says, “like sloth toes.”
I laugh out loud. “That’s so disturbing, Mom. I don’t think I want to get a pedicure with you. The ladies will judge us.”
“Oh, let them judge. I’m sure they let their toes hang loose every once in a while.”
The light cheery tone of my mom’s voice puts me at ease. There doesn’t seem to be any awkwardness between us, especially after the last time I talked to her. I hate thinking my mom might be upset with me, as it puts me in such a crappy mood. It’s only ever been us.
I park my car, grab my bags, and pick up my phone, maneuvering out of my car like a pro.
“Do you want me to make appointments?” I ask, adjusting my phone so I take it off speakerphone and put it up to my ear.
“That would be great. But go somewhere cheap. None of those fancy places in Beverly Hills.”
I would never book us an appointment there because I know my mom wouldn’t be able to afford it, which cuts me in half. I wish I could take my mom to a fancy spa where we could wear white robes and drink champagne all day while people fawn over us. It would be a small sliver of what I could do to show her how much I appreciate her and everything she’s done for me.
“Don’t worry, Mom. We can go to my favorite place right down the block. It’s walkable so we can enjoy the ocean breeze.”
“Sounds wonderful, honey. Do you want me to bring sandwich makings so we can eat beforehand?”
Sandwich makings—her way of cost cutting and not having to go out to lunch. Always thinking of the bottom line.
I jiggle my keys in my hand and walk up to my apartment. “You know what, Mom, I actually—” I pause when I see a familiar frame standing by my door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a sexy-as-sin grin on his face. Shit. “Uh, hey can I call you back?”
“Sure, is everything okay?”
As I approach, Hollis steps closer, a wicked look on his face. Oh crap, what does he have planned now?
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Um, plan for me to take you to lunch and don’t argue with me. Love you, Mom. Talk to you later.”
I hang up just as Hollis reaches me. “Hey, baby.” His hand grips my cheek as he pulls me in for a quick kiss on the cheek. My stomach clenches from the intimate touch. “Talking to your boyfriend?” he asks with a smile.
“My mom,” I answer, putting some distance between us. “What are you doing here?”
His smile falters for a second from my abrupt tone. “Can’t a guy bring a girl flowers?”
The bouquet he holds out to me is stunning, a handful of beautiful white lilies. The smell of the flowers combined with Hollis’s signature cologne is intoxicating, making me feel silly drunk with lust.
“You going to take them, sweetheart, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”
Shifting my bags, I go to grab them but Hollis instead takes my bags, slings them over his shoulder and then wraps his arm around me, pressing his lips to the side of my forehead. For just one moment, I melt into his side and allow myself to bask in the man’s warm embrace. I can’t remember ever doing that, letting someone else hold me other than my mom. And it feels good. Too good. Like being held all night last night. That was too good and can’t happen again. I can’t allow him to do that and keep him at arm’s length. But I loved waking up with him. Loved the warmth of his arms wrapped around me. Seeing his face first thing. Don’t go there, Mel. It’s not for you. Not your forever.
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” I reply stiffly, reaching to unlock the door. Making quick work of it, I open my door and step in, disengaging myself from Hollis, who doesn’t seem too happy about the move. Clearing my throat, I hold out my hands. “I can take my stuff now.”
A deep furrow forms in Hollis’s forehead as I reach for my things. He steps back, not allowing me to grab anything. “You’re not going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I answer honestly.
“And why not?”
Sighing with defeat, I lean against the doorframe and say, “We want different things, Hollis. I don’t want to lead you on.”
“And what exactly is it that you want?”
One night.
One night where I forget about everything in my life and just enjoy your lips, your touch, your smell. Just one freaking night where I can dream of the perfect man I know doesn’t exist.
“Not this,” I answer, hating the way it sounds so harsh coming out of me.
I wait for a reaction, for a smart-ass comment but nothing comes. Instead, Hollis studies me, his eyes full of concern. Defeat sags in his shoulders finally when he hands me my bags that I set on the ground in the entryway. With no passing words, he takes one last look at the flowers he bought and gives them to me, a note planted firmly in the middle by a plastic stick.
I can’t read it.
I know it will break me.
“Thank you,” I say on a whisper, not able to look into his eyes. They’re too hurt. The hope once springing from them has been extinguished . . . by me.
Isn’t this what I wanted? For him to finally get a clue?
If so, then why does it hurt so bad?
“Sure,” he answers, his hands in his pockets, a strand of his hair falling over his forehead.
“Okay, well, have a—”
My words are cut off by Hollis. His body moves so quickly, I don’t even see him coming. Maneuvering inside my apartment, he presses me up against the wall of my entryway, the door still wide open and my hands pinned above my head by one of his strong ones.
My breathing is heavy from the sudden movement and before I even have a chance to catch it, Hollis has his lips on mine in a feverish attempt to keep me still.
It works.
His hips lean up against mine, his spare hand gripping my ribs and his mouth working mine thoroughly. I get lost in the taste of him, in the weight he’s pressing against my body, in his scent and the small moans coming deep within his throat.
God, he’s so damn sexy.
I love how he wants me, desires me.
Little waves of his hips against mine turn my core slick, sending butterflies through my stomach, and making my legs weak at the knees. The hand that grips my ribs moves up higher so it sits right below my breast, his thumb skimming the underside like the other night. The light caress creates a deep throb within me.
In the midst of him taking over my body with his mini thrusts and touch, his lips are demanding, taking more than I’ve ever planned on giving him in the entryway of my apartment. With precision, his tongue breaks the seal of my lips and explores my mouth, tasting every inch of me.
All I can do is settle into the wall and let this all-consuming man turn me into mush with each thrust of his hips, every caress of his thumb, and every lick of his tongue.
My heart is beating out of my chest as my tongue plays against his, begging for more. I want so much more. My body wants to connect with his in every way possible but my brain knows it’s a bad idea, knows I’m only bound to get hurt. Too bad for my brain, my body is winning out, shoving any internal dialogue right out the window.
Moaning, I try to remove my hands from his grip but he holds on strong, using his weight to pin me down. I want to touch him. I need to touch him. I want to feel his abs, feel the well-defined divots, the velvet-soft skin I stare at when he’s dressed in only his suit. Is it as soft as it looks? Would he like my tongue running all along it?
Moving a little deeper, he matches each thrust of my tongue, exploring wildly. His demanding approach is not what I expected from this smart-ass of a man, but hell if it doesn’t turn me on even more.
I’m settling in for a long make-out session, letting every throb and delightful sensation roll through me when Hollis removes his lips away from mine and works them up my jaw.
Yessss . . .
Oh God, yes. Chills spread over my skin from the feel of his scruff against my face, his lips a stark soft contrast soothing the rough marking of his jaw. Moving just below my ear, he kisses me in just the right spot, moving his lips again, putting me on the edge of taking all my clothes off and pouncing this man. How can he do so little but make me want so much more?
Preparing for another orgasm from only his hips rubbing against mine, I brace myself as his lips find my ear. Right when I think he’s going to bite my lobe, he speaks with a dangerous warning tone. “Fuck you, you don’t want this.” His breath is heavy, his words slicing me in half. “Don’t fucking lie to me ever again, Melony. You won’t like the consequences.”
Releasing me, he puts a great deal of distance between our bodies, leaving me cold, breathless, and needy. His hand grips his hair as he studies me from under his lashes.
Shaking his head, he vacates my apartment while calling out, “This is far from over, baby.”
I don’t know how long I stand there, motionless, stunned, completely and utterly shocked from Hollis’s intense physical and sexual attack. Everything he did in the last five minutes was the most exciting, enthralling, and sexy thing that’s ever happened to me.
I’ve had my fair share of men in my life but none of them compare to Hollis. Does that make him different? Would he be the exception everyone talks about? Would he be the one that would stay?
Is that even possible?
Is that even possible?
There are plenty of people out there who are still together, who have found their “soul mates” but that doesn’t mean it would happen to me.
I’m damaged, not good enough to keep around. I’m not the one a man would stay for.
If my own father, my flesh and blood, doesn’t want me to be a part of his life . . . He held my hand. He held me in his arms. He kissed my forehead. He tucked me in at night. He made me breakfast, albeit occasionally.
And then he left.
If I’m not enough for my own damn father, how could I be enough for anyone else?
An unwanted tear slips from my eye that I quickly wipe away, not letting myself feel such asinine emotions. He’s long gone. He chose his life. He chose to leave, to burn a hole so deep inside me that there is no possible filler.
Not even one Hollis can fill. Even if he is the best man there is, and my head knows that’s probably the case, and even though he likes me, I won’t be enough. I won’t be enough to keep him, and I don’t want to cry myself to sleep again.
I don’t want to feel cast aside ever again.
Staring at the flowers, I eye the note tucked within the beautiful blooms. What could he possibly have said in that little note? Is it the joking Hollis who always wants my boob in his mouth? Or is it the serious Hollis, the one that tears my walls down with one heated gaze in my direction, the one who speaks of the possibilities of forever?
Please let it be the joking Hollis. I’m not sure I can handle anything else right now.
With a shaky hand, I reach for the envelope and slowly open it.
His chicken scratch is written in red ink. The note is simple . . . but catastrophic to my desire to stay strong, to maintain my ambivalent façade.
You’re everything I’ve ever wished for in a woman . . . and more.
Tears well up in my eyes as I slump against the wall, flowers in hand, note in the other. I find a seat on the floor, completely deflated.
I’m everything he ever wished for . . .
Then why do I feel so damn broken?