The Chosen One (16 page)

***

In the car on the way back to Maya’s dorm, I apologized for Pat. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about his flask.”

She waved me off. “He’s pretty funny. Odd, though. Who was the guy he mentioned? Liam?”

“Oh, him. Dad’s younger brother decided the Carmichaels were too much to handle.” Lying left a nasty taste in my mouth, but what could I say?
We’re almost certain Uncle Liam is swimming with the fishes because of Grandmother
? I braced for a question about being the Chosen One.

“I wish I could take Grover home with me. What a sweet dog,” Maya said.

The tension behind my eyes dissipated. “You and Pat both. He adores that dog. That’s one thing he’s always loved about Fiona.” I was intrigued she’d asked about Liam but hadn’t said anything about the other stuff. Was she trying to respect my privacy? Or was she afraid of opening conversations that might involve tit for tat?

“Grover?”

I laughed. “No, her love of animals.”

Maya nodded thoughtfully. I wanted to know what thoughts ran through her beautiful head. “He really loves Fiona.”

“Yes, he does. I hope it doesn’t ruin him.” I hadn’t intended to share that much information. “Here we are,” I said in a silly singsong voice as I pulled up in front of her dorm.

She didn’t bolt from the car like she had last time; instead, Maya the Gray chewed the side of her cheek, like she was mulling something over. Several seconds passed before she said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?” She swallowed. “Another one, I mean?”

“Sure. Is the shop still open?” I turned the keys in the ignition, clutching the gearshift in my right hand, ready to put the car into reverse.

“Upstairs.” Maya placed her hand on mine. “I’ve mastered making coffee in my room.”

Her hand stayed on top of mine, and my heartrate shot through the roof. “That would be lovely,” I said, my voice cracking.

We walked up three flights of stairs, neither of us speaking. When we entered her room, I was taken aback by its sparseness. My room wasn’t extravagant, but Fiona had helped me decorate it a smidgeon to make it homier, even though I spent many a night in her guest bedroom.

In the corner sat a coffee pot‌—‌the most expensive item in the room. “I can’t live without coffee,” Maya explained, filling the machine from a jug of water she’d pulled out of a dented mini-fridge that appeared older than Maya was.

“Is that why you work at La Creperie and not any of the restaurants you mentioned earlier?”

“Partly. I got tired of the clientele. Occasionally, I pick up some shifts at Nadine’s,” she said with her back turned.

“I can only imagine about the patrons,” I said, hoping to relieve the tension.

“How’d you end up at the crepe shop?”

“A few years back, the owner of La Creperie was the manager of one of the places I worked. When she opened her place, she asked me to join the staff. It’s not close to here,” she said, waving to her room, “but I like the atmosphere.”

I enjoyed listening to her soft voice. “Do you miss Matta‌—‌your home?”

Would anyone miss Mattapan?
Think before you speak, Ainsley
.

“I miss my mom. We get together once a week for dinner. Been doing that since I moved out three years ago.” She smiled shyly. “I like having my own space,” she offered. “Even if I have to work twenty hours a day to pay for it.”

Pride and determination flickered in her eyes.

While Maya ground the coffee beans, I gazed around the room, spying a worn copy of
Little Women
on her desk. Many of the pages had been dog-eared. A handful of library books, including McCullough’s biography on Adams, sat on the desk as well. I picked it up. According to the bookmark, she was more than halfway through. When did she sleep? At one corner of the desk, a photo leaned against the wall. A young Maya and a woman sat astride horses. I squinted to make out the woman, but the photo was too grainy to allow for much detail.

“Is this your mom?” I asked, holding up the frame.

She smiled over her shoulder. “Yep.”

“Where was it taken?”

“At the dude ranch in Cody I mentioned earlier.”

I put the worn photo back with care. One of the beds was stripped bare. “You don’t have a roommate?”

“Luckily, I have the perfect roommate. She’s never here.”

“Has she been here at all?” I pointed to the bed.

“She pops in to say hi and to see if she missed anything. Her boyfriend is a couple of years older, and she lives with him. Her parents don’t know about her living situation.” Maya busied herself measuring out milk and sugar. “Thank God for cell phones. I don’t have to field calls from her family.”

“Ah, lucky you.”

She peered at me over her shoulder. “What’s your roommate like?”

“Oh, I don’t have one.” I rushed the pretentious words in an attempt not to be heard. There weren’t many single rooms available, and they weren’t cheap.

Maya shrugged off my guilt. “That’s nice. I know having a roommate is part of the whole college experience, but I’m not much of a people person.”

I had to bite my bottom lip to prevent myself from laughing.

She handed me a mug I was certain had originally belonged to La Creperie and motioned for me to sit on her bed. Maya sat on a plastic desk chair. Our knees practically touched, and I couldn’t imagine having a roommate in such a confined space. Fiona’s cramped two-bedroom apartment seemed like a mansion now.

“What did you mean when you said hopefully loving Fiona wouldn’t ruin Pat?”

I had the feeling she wasn’t really asking about him, more about relationships in the Carmichael family.

“Fiona doesn’t believe in monogamy. She loves Pat, but she also likes to…”

“She seeks experiences.”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Like nude sunbathing?”

“Yes. And others.”

Maya studied me carefully, as though my expression could tell her all she needed to know. I averted my eyes, staring at the steam rising from the rich concoction.

Maya sipped hers and said over the brim, “I see.” She slowly lowered her cup and chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you think they can make it work?”

“I hope they can.”

“So you believe love conquers all?”

I nearly swallowed my tongue. “I’d like to believe it does. It’s hard to imagine a world without the power of love.” Where in the hell had that line come from? I was fairly certain I was the first Carmichael to have ever uttered such a ridiculous phrase away from the microphone, yet at that moment, it didn’t feel ridiculous. Was I drinking the love Kool-Aid now?

She continued to study me.

“What do you believe?” I asked.

Maya placed her cup on the desk and steepled her fingers, resting her chin on them. “I haven’t put much thought into it, really. But I hope so. It’s a nice thought.”

Her sad eyes suggested she had thought about it a lot, even if something stopped her from believing wholeheartedly. What had broken her?

I wanted to sweep her into my arms, kiss her pain away. I wanted to make Maya feel safe. She lifted her cup again and heartily quenched her thirst.

This conversation was drastically different than the ones we had previously about relationships. Both of us were tap-dancing our way around our earlier declarations of cherishing independence and shunning relationships without putting too much on the line.

“Would you like another cup?” She raised her nearly empty one.

“Not yet.” I wanted to add, “Maybe in the morning,” but I lost my nerve.

She fixed another for herself, and I pretended to look out the window, all the while trying to slow my thundering heart. Her window overlooked the athletic center with the track and field in the center.

“Not much of a view,” she said. She was standing right behind me, and I could feel the heat radiating off her body. “But if you lean over a little and look closely, you can glimpse the Charles.” I followed her lead, imagining moonlight shimmering on the dark river.

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around my chest and shivered.

“Are you cold?”

I’d expected her to offer me a sweatshirt, but to my surprise she enveloped me in her arms and held me close. I melted as Maya peppered my neck with soft kisses. Closing my eyes, I tried not to say anything. I didn’t want to blow the moment. Instead, I turned slowly and gazed into her smoldering gray eyes.

I placed a palm on her cheek. “I want to kiss you.”

She started to lean in, but I held her face away from mine. “Before I do, I don’t want you to run this time.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She wore an aw-shucks grin.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

I hesitated. But not for long.

Our lips met, and the kiss was soft at first, gentle. Then she deepened it. Her tongue entered my mouth, and a moan escaped me. When she tugged away from me, my heart lurched into my throat, nearly cutting off all oxygen.

She ran her fingers through my curls. “I’m so sorry about last time. I wanted to tell you right then and there how sorry I was, and to take it back. But you looked so hurt, and I was kicking myself for being such an ass… I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“Shhh… we can’t change that, but we can…” I kissed her. She reciprocated with equal desire. As Maya maneuvered us to the bed and lay me down on the bright aqua comforter, it dawned on me what was about to happen. Panic roiled through my entire body.

“Are you okay?” She must have sensed it.

“Yes. Yes… It’s just that…” I shrugged, hoping my body language conveyed what I was too embarrassed to admit: I was a virgin.

“Ainsley.” She cupped my cheek. “We don’t have to go that far. I could kiss you all night and be perfectly happy.”

I smiled, feeling confident. “What if I want more?”

She flicked a curl out of my eyes but didn’t respond. Her eyes communicated the truth. Maya wanted to make love to me. It didn’t take me long to rip her shirt off.

Before I could kiss her again, she placed a finger on my lips. “Just so you know, I haven’t either.”

That stunned me. A twenty-one-year-old virgin? She really did enjoy her independence.

She clumsily removed my cardigan, making us both giggle. I made three failed attempts to unclasp her bra. When I finally succeeded, she raised a congratulatory brow.

I nuzzled her nipple, hardening it and bolstering my confidence. Then I rolled Maya onto her back and took her erect nipple into my mouth. She let out an encouraging gasp, her head arching against the pillow at the sensation. Her arms and stomach were a toned milk chocolate, and I let my fingers trail up and over her soft skin.

She pulled my head to hers and we kissed again, sending a deep throbbing down south. I didn’t want that to end, but I had the urge to explore her skin with my tongue. Little electric currents singed my fingertips where I trailed my hand down her side. When I reached the top of her jeans, I tried slipping my hand beneath the waistband, but my silver Pandora charm bracelet snagged the top button.

It made her laugh‌—‌the most genuine, alluring sound.

“Let me help you out.” She carefully freed my bracelet and unbuttoned her jeans. Without speaking, she flicked her gaze to my knit dress. I got the message: she wasn’t getting naked alone.

I shucked my dress and panties faster than a sprinter at hearing the starting gun, which made her laugh more, but she didn’t mess around in removing her jeans.

My hands shook a little as I started to lower her emerald cotton, lace-trim panties. She lifted her butt, and my eyes feasted on her nakedness. The curve of her hips. Her perky breasts. Maya was the most gorgeous woman I had seen in the flesh. Of course, she was the only woman I had seen naked too, unless you counted locker room encounters, and I didn’t. I typically averted my eyes out of fear of appearing on Susie Q’s blog embroiled in a lesbian sex scandal.

Still, I’d read more than my fair share of lesbian erotica to know that foreplay was vital in satisfying a woman, so I didn’t want to rush things with Maya. I lay on top of her, enjoying the sensation of our naked bodies pressed together. Every nerve tingled with anticipation, and all we had done was kiss and touch. Could we simply kiss all night? Part of me would be ecstatic just with that. The other part of me craved the whole shebang‌—‌with the emphasis on bang.

But what if I sucked?

Maya seemed content to continue kissing and groping.

After several moments, she opened her legs and my hip pressed against her crotch. My God, she was wet. I slowly rubbed my hip against her pussy, the fervor in my groin intensifying.

My right hand skated down the side of her body, migrating to the triangle between her thighs. My fingers carefully caressed her tender lips.

She moaned, and I smiled in satisfaction. I’d made Maya the Gray moan in bliss.

My fingers were slick with her wetness, and I stared into her eyes, saying nothing as my finger slowly entered her. She was warm, inviting, slippery. I hadn’t expected the slippery part. It made sense, but it still took me by surprise. Hesitantly, I pushed my finger in further, feeling her muscles contract around me.

“Oh, Jesus,” she exclaimed.

Terrified, I pulled out. Smiling, she guided my finger back inside her. “Please, don’t stop. You feel so good.” She reassured me, gripping my wrist tight.

I worked up the nerve to pump my finger inside her. Maya’s back arched, and our eyes met as if we were sharing the same thoughts and feelings. The connection was surreal yet real.

Her mouth captured mine again, and I groaned.

“You feel so good.” She bit my lip playfully.

I looked down at my fingers between her legs and then back to her eyes. “It’s amazing, being inside you.” My cheeks flushed as she stroked my cheekbone. Then she closed her eyes as I dove in deeper.

I kissed the hollow of her throat, ventured on to a nipple, relishing her gasp when I bit down on one rosy bud. I slid a second finger inside her, her muscles once again welcoming it with contraction.

My tongue trailed down her firm belly, seeking the dark thatch of her pubic hair; when I found it, I nuzzled its softness, inhaling its heady scent.

Maya’s moans intensified, but I didn’t want her to come before I had the chance of a taste. My eyes fixed on the hood of her clit, and I licked my lips, unsure. Maya watched me, the corners of her mouth curving upward in enigmatic Maya the Gray fashion.