Lost in Us (15 page)

"James you don't have to tell me these things. I just—I'm sorry I brought this up."

"No, it's fine.” He looks at me with a kind, warm smile. "My dad, understandably, cut off any financial aid, so I started working the summer before senior year. Found out it drained me more than partying, so I took on as much as possible."

Ah, addiction to work and exhaustion. One more thing we have in common besides the obsession with movies.

"Much more constructive," I say in an attempt to cheer us up.

"You've dealt with things in a constructive way right from the beginning," he says and there's something in his voice that makes the hair at the nape of my neck stand up. I think it's the admiration Parker was talking about.

"Everyone copes in their own way," I say quietly. I sink in my seat as I realize the speed indicator is so far to the right I can't see it at all anymore. "When you said one hour did you mean three hours for normal drivers?"

He smirks. "One of the reasons I thought a blindfold might be useful. By the way, put that back on."

"But I already know you're driving like a maniac," I protest.

"I said that was just one of the reasons." His smirk accelerates along with the car. "We're almost there so I really want you to put that on."

"Fine," I say and I start tying the silk, twitching as I accidentally pull a few strands of hair. 

A sharp curve to the right tells me that we are leaving the highway.

"And we're here," James announces a few minutes later. I sit up straight in my seat, pointing my ears as the car slows down and then comes to a halt. A muffled sound comes from outside, like metal scratching. A gate opening, maybe? My guess is confirmed when we start moving again, at a slow pace. We stop again almost immediately and this time I hear James turn off the engine. He gets out of the car without a word. A few seconds later, he (or at least I hope it's James) opens my door. I expect him to take my hand and guide me out, but he lifts me in his arms.

"This is bordering on creepy," I giggle.

"Your faith in me is astounding," James says.

I barely manage to take in a few deep breaths of the warm, evening air when we step into a closed space. A weirdly smelling one too. Good weird. There's a slightly sweet aroma lingering in the air. An aroma I know. An aroma I love.

Chocolate.

It's a few more steps before James finally puts me down and takes my blindfold off. I stare at the long corridor in front of us confused. There’s no chocolate in sight. Only plastic containers, like oversized liquid soap dispensers lined up on each side, and giant glass windows through which huge metal cans and pipes are visible. 

"It's not Willy Wonka's factory, but you can try every single recipe they have," James says from behind me.

"Oh wow," I exclaim, realizing that those containers don't have soap in them but chocolate.

We're in a chocolate factory.

I swirl around and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him in a tight embrace. "How is this possible?" I ask, unable to stop my legs from jiggling with nervous excitement.

"A friend of mine owns the factory," he says when I finally step back, allowing him to breathe. "He wants to add a museum to it, to show the process, offer tastings and everything. It won't open for another month or so, so you're their unofficial test customer."

"Fantastic," I say, turning toward the corridor.

"The machines," he points to the huge metal cans behind the windows, "are actually closed at night but I told him you'd care only about the tasting part any way."

"You know me well."

"What are you waiting for? Dig in. And feel free to ignore me, I won't mind."

There is a bowl with mini waffles next to each chocolate dispenser. I grab one and hold it under the first dispenser, pushing the big round button on it. A dark reddish-brown cream decorates my waffle.

"Oh my God. Hot cherry chocolate," I say, shoving the entire waffle in my mouth. "This is a dream come true."

I fill another waffle and wave in front of James's lips, "Come on, just one bite."

"I'm really okay," he says and actually takes a step back.

"How can you be in chocolate paradise and not taste anything?"

"One of the perks of not being a big chocolate fan," he smirks. I shrug and eat the tiny piece of heaven myself. I make a grab for a third waffle but James says, "I'd suggest you don't empty the cherry supply. You've got plenty of others to taste."

"Thanks for saving me from myself," I joke while proceeding to the next dispenser.

Fifteen mini waffles later, and strawberry, raspberry, banana, pineapple, currant, caramel, cinnamon, mocchacino, cappuccino, chili, and so many kinds of pepper chocolate I keep mixing up their names, there's not one type of chocolate in the room I haven't tasted.

I take a deep breath and make a mental note to only use half a waffle for each container as we step into the next room. It's twice as long as the one we left behind. There are no waffles next to the dispensers. The dispensers aren't like the other ones either. Through the glass tops I can clearly see that the chocolate inside each is solid. I press the lever under the dispenser and a long slim piece of chocolate falls in the tray next to it.

By the time we reach the last room, which is part of the museum-to-be, I can hardly breathe. We've been in one room where chocolates were arranged according to how much milk they have inside, one according to how many different flavors there are, and one where I got to mix my own personal chocolate drink.

"I am officially stoned on chocolate," I say, as James opens the door. My jaw drops. I step inside, glancing incredulously to my left and then to my right. A melted chocolate river flows on each side. Of course they kept what is best for last. There is a basket full of regular-sized waffles on the table between the two rivulets.

"Are you saying what I'm thinking?" James asks.

"Depends what you're thinking."

"That you can't eat anymore."

“That’s really the only thing you are thinking about?” I ask playfully.

“That and everything else I still have planned for tonight.” He bites his lip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll do something better. I’ll show you if you’re done here.”

"You think I'd leave this place without tasting the chocolate rivers?" I ask with fake horror. I grab a waffle and a paper plate then dip half in one river, and the other half in the second one, resulting in my fingers getting as dirty as a three-year-old’s when left alone with a chocolate cake.

"I just don't think I'll be able to eat more than a waffle." I do my best to eat up all the chocolate on my fingers.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind and placing small, delicious kisses on the side of my neck.

"James," I murmur, as soft bites replace the kisses, and delicious tingles take over my entire body. I put down the plate and turn around and kiss him.

Or attempt to, because this thing we are doing doesn't really do justice to the concept of kissing. It's clumsy and weird and I have the strange feeling he's trying to hold back.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"The first kiss I had in sixth grade was less awkward than this, and there was a lot of teeth clashing involved. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'll bring this up another time, eat your waffle."

"James," I press.

He takes a deep breath. "I've been meaning to ask you this but we always end up talking about me… never about you."

"What about me?" I ask, confused.

"You came out of a long-term relationship not long ago."

"Almost five weeks," I say proudly. "According to Jess, that's one week more than a girl needs to completely get over a breakup."

"And you agree with her?" He frowns.

"Absolutely," I say.

"Are you saying this because you're afraid I might not let you eat your waffle if you don't?" His tone is playful, but his frown doesn't dissipate entirely.

"Maybe." I play with the top button of his shirt. "Or maybe it's the truth."

It is the truth. At least I think it is. It's hard to think about my time with Michael. Not because it hurts, but because it seems so distant, so elusive. It's as if there's a veil between those days and my present. I know what that veil is made of: the intensity of every minute, every hour I spend with James. Everything before it vanishes in a mist of meaninglessness.

"It'd better be," he caresses my lips with his thumb. "Because I'm all in in this."

It's me who's all weird now when his lips touch mine, and I pray that he can't tell there's something wrong. That he can't feel the fear on my lips, instilled by the wonder of his words.

Words I want so badly to believe. Maybe it's the sound of the rivers around us, the cinnamon and honey in the air, or the fact that I seem to be lost in a fairy tale of my own tonight, but I find it a little easier to believe him now than back at the club.

"You aren't going to eat that waffle any time soon, are you?" he says when we break off.

"Why? Are we in a hurry?" I turn to my waffle. "What's next? A trip to the moon?"

"I was thinking of something less ambitious," he murmurs in my ear, perusing his hand over my thigh, pulling up my dress, "like making love."

"Mmm… I thought that might come up," I tease, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Am I allowed to take more waffles with me for later?"

"If that's the price," he says.

“I’ll be faster if you help me. Come on, grab a waffle.”

We both head to the river carrying one. I also take my plate with me.  “No chance for you to taste the chocolate?” I ask as I dip my waffle in the chocolate.

“Nope,” he says, and though his head is lowered, I can see the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. I set my waffle aside on the plate on top of the old one.

“Not even if I put it here?” I say, lowering my dress so one nipple shows. I smear chocolate around it with my fingers. He raises his head slowly, biting his lower lip. His eyes are already that shade that tells me he wants me. I dip my fingers in chocolate again and do the same with the other nipple, looking him in the eyes the whole time. A rivulet of sweat oozes on his temple. I lower my eyes to his erection, and the craving inside me awakens instantly, with an almost unbearable urgency. I’m the one biting my lip now, though he hasn’t moved one inch closer to me. I start lowering my dress more and more. And now he does step closer. I let out a moan when his tongue comes in contact with my nipple. He circles it again and again, until all the chocolate is gone and I’m more aroused than ever.

“So you do eat chocolate,” I tease, though my voice is nothing more than a whisper.

“Depends how it’s served,” he utters against my skin.

He moves over to the other nipple and I cry, pulling at his hair, “I want you James.”

His fingers trail up on my inner thigh.

“Touch me, please,” I beg.

“You’re so wet,” he says, touching my sex through my panties. I press against his fingers, in a silent imploration for him to remove the damn panties.

He doesn’t. He removes his fingers completely instead, rising to meet my lips. Not in a kiss, in a brush. He is trembling, his erection against me. I lower my hand and he swallows hard when I touch him.

“No, Serena,” he breathes against my lips. “I don’t want to have you here, like this.” He covers my hand with his, but doesn’t remove it. “I want tonight to be different. Special.”

I look up at him in surprise, then smile. He removes my hand, a sign that whatever plan he has for us is one touch away from crumbling. I take a step back, pulling up my dress.

“Let’s go, then,” I say.

He takes my hand. I grab the plate with waffles with my other hand as he drags me after him.

"
W
here are we going?" I ask, struggling to keep my plate from bouncing too violently. The last thing I want is my waffles to land on the floor.

"Somewhere where we'll be comfortable."

"The floor between the rivers looked comfortable enough,” I say, feeling my face getting all hot.

I increase my pace, despite the fact that my heels are killing me. A few minutes into our jog, we leave the factory premises behind and enter an office building.

"Wow, these really look comfortable," I say sarcastically, staring at the open space, full of desks and chairs. "And special. How’s this better than the factory?"

"There is no one here."

"What?" I ask, suddenly out of breath. "There were people . . . in the factory?"

He finally stops and I take up the opportunity to lean on a desk and give my feet some relief.

"Don’t worry, no one was watching us,” he says, leaning on the door in front of me. "You didn't think that those rivers would just run the entire night, did you?"

"Right," I mumble. I hadn't given any thought to that. "What friend owns this who would just hand you the keys so we can barge inside in the middle of the night?"

"My family," he smirks.

"You've got your own chocolate factory?" I grin. "You just became the runner-up to being the most awesome person ever."