Love's Forbidden Flower (5 page)

“Yes!”

Resuming my place on the bed, my body snuggles into Donovan while my brain plays dumb so I can enjoy the moment for all it's worth. I know exactly what the note means, and he's well aware of that fact. But we relish this part of the courtship. It's suddenly become that rare time of anticipation in our relationship—the time when we know we will evolve.

Without thought for his actions, he rolls to face me, sliding his arm around my waist, holding my body while engulfing my spirit. “It means that your words keep getting to me. You're an incredible woman, and I want to spend every moment possible with you. At some point I need to face that. Lily, I don’t know if we should do this, but maybe on New Year’s Eve I could take you to your friend’s party, and then we could go to Joe’s awhile. When Mom and Dad are gone we’ll come back here for some time alone and start to figure this out.”

I’m enchanted by his considerate tone. “That sounds really sweet.”

Donovan unconsciously pulls me closer and gently strokes the back of my head. “Really? This whole situation is so strange, and if we're going to let things happen, it has to be for the right reasons. We should never look back and think the whole thing was some kind of perverse mistake. The last thing I want is for you to feel I had any notion of taking advantage of you.”

Bringing my lips close to his I’m completely enthralled by his gaze as the moonlight shining through my window illuminates his eyes. “You're so amazing. No wonder I'm falling for you.”

His stuttered breath whispers over my lips. “Please, not now. I’m still not ready for this. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I don’t want to hide from myself anymore. Lying next to you feels so comfortable and right. The moonlight is bringing out the violet in your eyes, and I feel like my heart is going to come out of my chest. It would be so easy to give in without another thought.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I need to do this right. If we ever do surrender to it, I want you to know how much you’re respected. You're not just some girl; you’re someone to be treasured. New Year’s Eve, okay?”

I came dangerously close to bursting while talking to Sally. Fibbing about a crush on Jim Douglas, who will be at the party, and the hope for some New Year’s Eve magic seemed to work as damage control.

It’s a bummer that Sally can’t be at this bash. Though I’ll have Donovan with me, and we won’t be there long, it would be nice to have her around. Her familiar presence would make him feel less out of place among a bunch of underclassmen.

With an hour and a half to go before our charade begins, Mom is abuzz with commentaries at dinner about how I’m spending my evening. She’s almost begging for an invitation to my teenage party so she won’t be stuck with Dad’s stogy friends. Dad seems grumpy. He probably doesn’t want to be with his friends either. How sad is that?

“Oh, and there was this one party where the boy I was dating had a fake ID and had bought a keg—”

“Lana!”

“Well, Edward, do you really think kids today are any different? We’ve raised ours to do the right things. It’s not like their friends aren’t like the kids we grew up with.”

I expect to exchange a snicker with Donovan, but he’s lost in his own thoughts. The Human Eating Machine barely took any food and hasn’t devoured a bite. All he has done is create little mounds with it—only to then separate each morsel, making his plate look like a puzzle of atoms. He continuously repeats the process of building up and tearing down. His expression brands the sight as metaphorical.

As Mom and I clear the table, Donovan lags behind, taking in the destruction. He then brings his carnage into the kitchen, dodging past me with his head low. Reaching the wastebasket, he tilts the vessel and looks as if he’s watching his life’s fortune flush down the drain. After setting his plate in the dishwasher, he heads off.

My gut churns over the display. Donovan gets a little despondent when Dad reams him for something lame, but I feel this upset has little to do with Dad’s ideals.

A few minutes later as I have my hands in dishwater, Donovan reenters the kitchen and speaks to me from the other side of the room. “I’m taking off now. Mom and Dad are going to drop you at Gina’s. I need to get to Joe’s early and help him set up. Happy New Year.”

What? This isn’t the plan. We’re not supposed to leave for almost an hour. Maybe he feels the scheme is a little too obvious, and it brought on the doldrums during dinner. I’m sure he will meet me at Gina’s later. He’ll probably send a text message.

The hour passes and my transformation into a princess is complete. For as dolled up and mature as I look in my deep violet dress, stilettos, and updo, feelings of toddlerhood grip me upon exiting the backseat of my parent’s pumpkin mobile. As they drive off I sneak over to the side of Gina’s house and ring Donovan’s cell. The call goes straight to voicemail, likely meaning that his phone is off. I leave him a message anyway, asking what the new plan is, before heading inside.

Mountains of coats, gloves, and purses almost cause me to stumble through the foyer. The place is so packed that the path through the living room and into the kitchen is barely maneuverable without dropping my plate of brownies. Three guys stand in the corner while futzing with a keg, unable to grasp the concept of a tap. Now I really wish Sally was here.

My cell phone still reflects a lack of reply from Donovan while the morons at the keg wonder if they need an ice pick to open it. I flee the kitchen on a quest for familiar faces.

When Gina sees me, she waves wildly and tries to dodge her way over like she is about to burst with news. “Lily! I have been looking for you. I thought you’d never get here. I have a message for you.”

I knew Donovan wouldn’t fail me.

Gina’s dress is flattering as the emerald green accentuates her lime eyes and dark features. She made a great choice. “Hi, Gina. Happy New Year. Great dress!”

“Thanks, you really like it?” she asks with a crooked beam darting out of her eyes. There seems to be a source of alcohol other than the keg.

“I do. You look fantastic. What’s the message?”

“Jim Douglas is looking for you. I think he likes you.”

Ugh. How is that for irony? Sally probably got the word out, thinking she was doing me a favor. He’s cute, but there isn’t an interested bone in my body.

After a little small talk with Gina I visit with the rest of my friends before excusing myself to the bathroom. On the way, I peek into my purse only to find there are still no messages.

Well, when in Rome… I’m relieved that someone got a clue with the tap and didn’t attack it with a fire ax. I start partaking in a small cup when none other than Mr. Douglas himself approaches me.

“Hey, Lily. I was wondering if you were coming. How was your Christmas?”

I tingle at the memory of that amazing day that filled me with hope for the New Year.

“Oh, the usual. How about you? Did you get everything you wanted?” I repress a gag while taking a sip of beer. I’ve heard of two-dollar wine, but if they paid more than that for this keg they were robbed.

“Not quite. I did pretty well, but I’m hoping to make up for it tonight. You didn’t bring a date, did you? Maybe we can hang out a little.” He asserts himself by touching my arm and playing with the short sleeve of my dress like his only thoughts are of removing it. This guy is as transparent as egg whites. For his sake, I hope he doesn’t possess their other characteristics as well.

“Sounds great, Jim. Oh, my phone is buzzing. Will you excuse me?” Talk about saved by the bell. Donovan never fails me.

Pulling out my phone I feel tricked. The buzz was a text from Sally wishing me a happy New Year. While returning the sentiment I notice that it’s 11:46 P.M. If Donovan is going to show he doesn’t have much time.

My eyes begin to sting, signaling that it’s time to stop kidding myself. Denial has been my best friend tonight, and it just ran out on me. It’s far too obvious that the man who, in sixteen and a half years, has never let me down has just stood me up.

Desiring to hide my forming tears, I grab my coat and sneak outside, calling Donovan one last time before conceding to the truth. The phone rings its full length before going to voicemail.

“Donovan, it’s Lily. It’s obvious that you aren’t coming. If you want to chicken out, I get it, but at least tell me. You’ve never left me hanging before. Please don’t do it now. Not over this. If there has ever been a time I needed you to talk to me it’s now.”

Leaning against a lamppost, my body shivers as I watch the fog in my brain respire through my mouth. The party holds nothing worth returning to. I’m less than two miles from home, and I just want to curl up in bed and cry. Taking off my new shoes that beautifully match the outfit I was so proud of, I begin my walk home, my feet feeling numb on the snow covered sidewalk.

Shortly into my journey, my phone buzzes with a text from Donovan.

“
I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but it’s over. Happy New Year.”

Countdowns blast from the houses around me as I sit on the curb and stare at the message. I almost wonder if someone stole his phone and is putting me on. The Donovan I know would never do this to me. Maybe my love has broken him. My tears show it certainly has broken me.

Just as I start to enter my room, Donovan emerges from the bathroom, looking more miserable that I do. “Man, it's cold! Can’t you sleep either?” I ask.

”No,” he venomously stings before slithering toward his room.

“Want something to keep you warm?” His blood-curdling glare is an unwarranted response to my innocent question. His face drops upon seeing my steaming cup. Then, as if a button was pressed, his expression snaps back to being dismal.

“If you want warmth, maybe you should get a dog,” he growls, returning to his cave.

“At least the house has an excuse to be cold!” I slam my door, thus probably waking the whole house. Considering Donovan's recent attitude it should be of no shock to anyone for me to be upset over something he's said. It's bad enough that I'm such a barbaric creature that would succumb to letting myself get all zigzagged by some guy, but to allow that creep to be my brother is seriously mental. What the hell is my reasoning? Especially with the way he’s been acting. And to think that men have the audacity to say women are nuts. Men are testosterone-driven whack jobs!

Ever since Donovan bailed on New Year’s Eve, he's turned into the prick of the universe. Now, between guitar lessons, sports, and God knows what, Donovan disappears almost every night. When I do see him, it’s like playing Russian roulette as to if he'll be sweet and tender, or mean and almost vindictive. It's like he is tying to completely destroy my spirit.

My life sucks. Seriously. Screw my life! I don't want to face this day. The last thing I want is to deal with Donovan. If he's a jerk again I'll likely strangle him—while driving even—until his face turns blue and his eyes pop out! If he's nice, he'll make me feel secure and fuzzy inside; then, I'll try to get him to talk, and he'll revert to being a dick, and I'll be back at the notion of strangling him. I'm just screwed.

Bracing myself, I bolt downstairs expecting to see Donovan in the kitchen eating his breakfast. Instead my moonstruck mother, who often switches between trying to be a 1950's housewife and my giddy best friend, greets me with false cheer. “Good morning, darling! Oh, you don’t look well. Did you have a bad night with the heat out?”

With a snap I reach for the coffee, intending to take my cup upstairs as quickly as possible. “Good morning, Mom. It was very bitter and sharp last night.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Grab some breakfast, and let’s get going. We should leave soon.”

“We? I thought Donovan was driving?” Has it really come to this?

“Oh, no, dear. He left early. Didn’t he tell you he had an early practice? We can go, and I’ll let you drive. It’s been too long since we had mother and daughter time. Let’s make up for it this afternoon and go buy all the stuff we wanted for Christmas and didn’t get. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Actually, it sounds impossible. No mall sells what I wanted, and if it does it's located somewhere off of the Vegas strip or in the pits of Hell.

At least the upside of all of this is that Mom is letting me drive. It sucks that I can’t drive with Donovan while he’s still seventeen. It’s actually less safe this way, as Mom’s hounding gives me the jitters. She’s exceedingly focused on every single bump and pothole in the entire state.

As we arrive at school and I bolt from the car, trying to shiver off the anxiety Mom gave me, Gina runs up. “Did you see the big commotion going on in the park across the street?”

Geez, just what the doctor ordered—more drama. Honestly, my focus was on the road and keeping Mom calm, but now I can’t imagine how it went unnoticed. About twenty people are gathered, and a lot of screaming and cheering is going on. Sally hangs toward the back of the crowd, sees me, and runs over. “Lily, you need to get over there fast. No one has been able to break this up.”

“Why would I want to get involved in someone’s fight?”

“You don’t know? Donovan and David Watts have been going at it. David insulted the football team yesterday, and Donovan challenged him to a fight this morning. He’s beating the crap out of him. No one has been able to pull him off.”