FLAME (Spark Series) (15 page)

My heart is racing so fast, it takes me a second to comprehend what he just said. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before, and I have no idea how to respond. It’s unbelievable and incredible, and I just want to kiss his mouth until our lips are bruised and swollen.

He cups my face with both hands and leans in, gently kissing me. It’s soft and sweet and over way too soon.

“I love you, Carissa. I’ve
been
in love with you. You’ve changed me in such a way, I don’t know how I’ll ever be the same again. I don’t know how I’m going to leave you in two months, and I definitely don’t know how I’m going to ever be able to go a day without you. But I
do
know one thing, and that is that I love you.”

I gasp at his words. I’m stunned, silent, and I can’t make words form to respond. I’ve never heard those words before except from Velaney. She’s the only one who’s ever loved me for me. But this…him…
this is different.

I continue staring up at him in complete shock. This was never supposed to turn into something. He was just supposed to be a flame, a one-night stand, a drunken mistake. But he wasn’t. And if I’m being honest with myself, he never was.

He grabs me, kissing me fiercely. The kiss is sweet and tender, and I know his words are true.
He loves me.

I fight with myself on saying it back, but I want to be sure before I say the words. I want to be able to look him in the eyes and tell him with confidence that I love him, too, but how will I know? I’ve never felt love before. So is this what love feels like or is there more? Have I been in love with him this whole time?

“Stop,” he whispers,  breaking the kiss.

I blink a few times and look up at him. “Stop what?”

“Stop thinking. Stop over-analyzing. Just let me. You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I said it. I said it because it’s the truth, and I mean it. I said it because I wanted you to know. Do you understand?” His eyes mesmerize me as he continues looking deep into my soul.

I nod, feeling relief. He smiles and kisses me once more before looking back at me. “We should get out before all the hot water is gone.”

I almost let him, but with a split-second thought, I stop him. I grab him and bring his mouth back down to mine. I kiss him, deep and aggressive, hinting as to what I want—what I
need
from him.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he grabs my ass and lifts me up. My legs automatically cling to him, wrapping around his waist.
He backs me up against the shower wall, and I can feel how ready he is for me.

He slowly enters me as I continue holding on to him. He has one hand on the wall, holding us up and the other under my ass, holding us together. He thrusts in and out of me slower than ever before. It’s sensual, and for the first time ever,
we make love.
It’s more than sex, and definitely more than just fucking. I can feel the emotion in him as he releases inside me, kissing me tenderly as we both orgasm together.

16

The next couple of weeks go by flawlessly. Our connection is stronger than ever, and although it scares me, I go with it. I love being around him and don’t want to ruin it by being overly emotional and sad.

Drew’s mom has been calling a lot lately. She’s really excited for him to finally be coming home after four long years. I understand her excitement, I really do, but it makes me incredibly sad.

“Yes, mum. Everything’s in order.” I hear Drew speak to her again as she continuously worries about him flying home safely. He’s graduating in six weeks and will be flying out three days later. I don’t like thinking about it. I’m doing my best to just enjoy the moment, enjoy the rest of my time with him. “Okay, mum. Hold on.”

He covers up the phone and leans in. “She wants to speak to you,” he whispers. I lean back, shaking my head vigorously as he shoves the phone in my direction. “Just say hi.”

I reluctantly grab it and clear my throat before speaking. “Um…hi, Miss…” Oh god, I’m so nervous, I completely forget her name.

“Oh, call me Hilary, dear.”

“Hilary, sure. Hi,” I respond nervously.

“Drew has told me a lot about you. He speaks very highly of you, and I just wanted to tell you how happy it makes me to know he has you while he’s away from home. And thank you for being good to him.” Her words are sincere, and I finally relax.
She wants to thank me?
“I know it’ll be hard for Drew to leave.”

“I’m glad to have met him. And I’ll be sad when he leaves, too,” I reply honestly. I’m not quite sure what to say or what she wants, so I leave it at that.

“Drew told me what you did together for Christmas, and I was so happy to hear he wasn’t alone this year.”

Velaney and I don’t celebrate holidays. We lounge in front of the TV with Chinese takeout and watch chick flicks. This past Christmas, Laney was still recovering from her hospital stay over Thanksgiving and with her being pregnant, Eric was pretty protective of her.

Since Drew was on school break, we bunkered down and hid in the apartment for three days. It was the first time I ever made a “Christmas meal” but I had wanted it to be special for him.

However, that didn’t exactly happen.

I wrapped an apron around my waist as I rolled up my sleeves. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was going to at least try. I found some recipes online that looked simple enough. Laney was up in Eric’s apartment, spending the day with him, doing god knows what.

I bought a ham and some special glaze that was supposed to be good. I even bought a sack of potatoes so I could boil and mash them. I found a jar of gravy and a can of vegetables. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, but the recipes were the most popular I found online.

“So what are you making?” Drew wrapped his arms around my waist as I stirred gravy over the stove.

“Well, if I do this right…dinner.” I grinned.

“It smells amazing,” he whispered in my hair, his hands getting grabby. “You look sexy like this. A man could get use to this.”

I laughed. “Ha, don’t get used to it. This is a one and only one time experience.”

“Well, seeing as this is a one time thing, we better make it worthwhile.” He kissed my neck, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. My body melted every time he did that.

And well, before I knew it, we were stripping each other’
s clothes off as Drew sat me on the dining room table. I ended up only wearing the apron, per Drew’s request, and before we knew it, everything burned.

I’m not sure what he told his mother we did that day, but it was in fact a
very
Merry Christmas.

She continues to thank me for being there for Drew, and although she’s pleasant and nice, it makes me feel bad. I feel awful that I’m wishing he would stay when he has a mother back home waiting for him. You can feel the love she has for him. She’s also incredibly proud of his accomplishments, and it really makes me wonder what his home life was like.

We exchange “nice talking to you” and “goodbyes.” I silently hand Drew his phone back. I don’t know what to say, but I feel like I’ve taken a step I’ve never taken before.

Speaking to your boyfriend’s mom might not seem like a big deal, but for me, it’s a
huge
deal. Not speaking to my own parents makes this incredibly hard. It’s not that I have any desire to speak to them, but a part of me feels envious at how great his mother is.

“She seems really great,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“She is. She has a big heart but worries a lot.”

“I-I had no idea you were telling her about me,” I stammer, nervously.

“Of course I have.” He smiles wide then shrugs. “She got it out of me.”

I laugh at him. I imagine his mother’s persistent voice begging him to tell her all the juicy gossip. It reminds me of Laney and when we were younger. We always knew when the other one was hiding something. If it was good gossip, we’d spill and gush about it all night. If it was parent issues, we knew to stay quiet. After a while, it all just seemed similar and hardly surprising.

“Well, that’s kind of cute. I’ve never talked to a mom before. You think she noticed?”

He laughs and says, “Probably. She notices everything.”

After the phone conversation with his mother, our relationship somehow seemed more intimate. It wasn’t exactly the “meet my mother” route typical relationships have, but it was surprisingly nice.

*   *   *

A couple more weeks pass, and I offer to help him start packing. Although he has another month until he leaves, he’s accumulated a lot more stuff over the years being here. I try to stay numb and push my emotions back as I tape up boxes. I pretend it’s not happening so I can keep my game face on.

“How are you getting this all home?” I ask, looking around at all his belongings.

“There’s a student abroad traveling service that helps us with shipping things back over. Packing is the easy part. It’s going to be getting it all home and unpacked that’s gonna suck arse.”

I nod as he explains. I really hate talking about his “home” but I know it’s inevitable.
Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s getting closer, and I have yet to really accept it.

“So, what can I help with? What can be packed up?” I stand, ready to help.

He points to his desk. “You can start there. Most of what’s in it I don’t need for class anymore—old notebooks and such.”

I grab a box and stagger to the chair. He has binders stacked on top with old textbooks and notebooks.
So they will fit snug in the boxes, I organize them nicely
.
I look through the notebooks and smile as I see all his notes from all the classes he’s taken over the past four years.

“Hmm…I could study all these and save myself four years worth of college.” I laugh, flipping through the pages.

“That’s if you can read the handwriting,” he teases.

I shrug casually. “I’m sure I could decipher it.”

Once the top of his desk is cleared, I move to the drawers. It’s mostly pens and pencils, highlighters and notecards. In the bottom drawer, he has tons of filled out notecards all with his handwriting.

“You write on notecards?” I ask, stunned.

“Yeah, study habit of choice. I’m a visual learner and it helps to write it down first. Helped me learn faster.”

“Hm…good idea.”

I collect them and put them into large sandwich bags so they won’t scatter. I’m not sure why he wants to save all this, or why he has for all these years, but I pack them anyway. I’m sure if I were in college or had
any
college experience, I’d understand the concept, so I just go with whatever he asks me to do.

The top drawer is different, however. There are envelopes stacked with a rubber band around them. I figure they must be from a friend back home or perhaps family, but then why not just email? Or call?

I look around and notice Drew has left. He must be using the bathroom or taking a food break. I know I shouldn’t snoop, but I can’t help myself. I undo the rubber band and begin digging.

The return address is from a Sarah Jayne in London.
A girl?
I know it’s not his sister, so I flip it over and grab the letter that’s inside.

My eyes quickly search for any major keywords, not wanting to take the time to read it word for word just incase Drew walks back in.

I love you.

I’m waiting for you.

I’ll never want anyone else.

I blink over and over.
Who the hell is she?

I put it back in the envelope and dig through the rest. They basically all say the same thing.

I haven’t forgotten about you.

Please come back to me.

I love you always.

I can’t tell if he’s ever written back, as she never specifies she received his letter or not. She never says
I love you, too
. She’s starting to sound like a major stalker.

I put all the letters back in the envelopes and wrap the band back around. I’m sure she’s just an ex-girlfriend, but why has he never mentioned an ex? I know we haven’t gotten into much detail about our past relationships, but you’d think if she was an important person in his life, he would’ve at least talked about her one time or another.

I continue packing everything in his desk, but decide to leave the stack of letters out. I won’t be able to pretend nothing’s bothering me, so I’ll casually ask him about her.

He walks in soon with two plates filled with food and two sodas shoved in his pockets. He places everything on the bed and motions for me to sit down next to him.

“Who’s Sarah?” I blurt out.

So much for casual.

“Huh?” His expression is a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Is she an ex-girlfriend or something?” I continue asking.

“Um…she was a girlfriend, yes.”

I fidget with my hands, which are sitting in my lap, as I continue interrogating him. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

I watch him intently as he swallows before responding. “I know. It never really came up.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“It never came up?” I bark. “It never came up that you have an ex-girlfriend writing you love letters?”

“We’ve never talked about our exes, Carissa. You never seemed to want to talk about our pasts, so I thought it was an off-topic conversation.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” It’s the first time I’ve raised my voice at him, fury and rage overcoming me. “I read them,” I say honestly. “I know it’s an invasion of privacy and probably a trust issue I have with men, but I read them. I read how
she’s waiting for you
and
still loves you
and
wants you back
. I think that’s pretty significant information to tell your current girlfriend, don’t you?”

“You shouldn’t have read them,” is all he says. His expression is giving me nothing but fear and anger.

“Well, you should’ve told me. I mean…is it true? Is she waiting for you? Was I…was I just a filler for you until you went back home to Sarah? Come on, Drew, tell me. Was I just a convenient piece of ass?”

“That’s not fair, Carissa. You’ve told me nothing of your past! I never expected to meet someone like you.”

“Not fair?” I shout. “You want to know? Fine. His name was Damon. I was a freshman, and he was my first and only boyfriend in high school. I thought I was in love with him. I followed him around like a lovesick puppy. And then one day, I wasn’t good enough for him. So he broke up with me in front of the entire school. Broke my fucking heart. He destroyed me. And apparently, I’ve never recovered. So there. You happy? That’s my pathetic little story.”

He stands, holding a hand out in comfort. I back away, not wanting him close. I stand up and put the chair in between us. I don’t want his comfort or his bullshit excuses. I just want to leave. Now.

“Carissa…you don’t open up very well,” he fires back. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to tell me anything after sharing something personal with you.”

“
That’s
your excuse? Really?” I bolt for the door.

“Carissa, wait!” I turn around to him facing me.

“Let me make this easy for you, so you can return home to your little girlfriend guilt-free.” I walk out the door without glancing back. I don’t hear his footsteps, so I know he’s not following me.

And I’m not sure which pisses me off more—the fact that he isn’t or the fact that I want him to.