Then You Saw Me by Carrie Aarons
11
Austin
“Got it.”
My voice is so tight, I can feel the lump forming in my throat.
“I’m serious, Austin. We expect you to make the drive home for the celebration. Your grandfather is retiring, the local newspaper will be here. We need each generation present. Especially you. You’ll be the face of the Van Hewitt’s in this town someday, and they need to be familiar with you. This is your duty.”
As if being some medium-sized suburban town’s weird non-mayor is all I’ve ever wanted. I wish I could reach through the phone and punch my dad. He’s a condescending prick on a good day, but today he’s in full Lester Van Hewitt mode. Preachy, self-righteous, acting like Webton is London or Paris when really, the Van Hewitt name could disappear and no one would fucking care.
“I told you, I have some radio shows I’m doing that morning and then I’ll try to be home.” Because going back to my hometown on a Wednesday isn’t inconvenient or anything.
“A show about what? Speaking on the radio? Jesus, Austin …” I hear Dad sigh in his pissed off, haughty tone.
There was no way I am getting into this fight again. How many times over my four years at Talcott has my father, or my family in general, mocked my choice of degree. There have been more fights once I expressed my desire to go into sports radio or broadcasting for a specific team.
If they found out that I was actively searching for jobs to do just that, behind their backs, they’d freak the fuck out.
Which is why I’ll placate him and drive all the way to Webton in the middle of the week next month for my grandfather’s retirement party. Not that it means much more than formality. The old man will never take his meddling hands out of the business until the day he kicks the bucket.
And now I would have to walk straight into the lion’s den. Events where my whole family was present? They are awful, at best. A catastrophe at worst. There is always some family feud going on, with someone not talking to someone. The latest was over my Aunt Mary’s will, and three of my uncles were fighting each other for who would get to keep her priceless jewelry collection.
The lot of them are vultures, and I can’t stand a single person. Even though he probably would have pitted against each other growing up, sometimes I do wish I had a sibling simply so I could mock everyone in the corner with another person.
“I’ll be home that Wednesday.”
Angrily, I hang up the phone and throw my cell away from me on the bed. He’ll be pissed off that I hung up on him, but right now, I don’t care.
Suddenly, the idea of doing this paper on AM/FM theory and the rise of radio in history is so completely unappetizing. Not that it was enthusing to begin with, but now I definitely can’t concentrate.
I leave the attic in search of some food or the random beer on a Monday night. I’m typically not a drinker this early in the week, but I think that phone call warrants one.
The house is quiet, with the roommates out at their nightly activities. I know that Callum and Scott play intramural floor hockey in the fitness center tonight, and Amelie works at the library as a student job and internship for her major. I’m not sure where Bevan is, but I know right where Taya is as I pass the living room.
Pausing because she hasn’t seen me yet, I sip on the beer I located in the fridge just before.
It’s been about three days since I’ve truly seen her. She always seems to be coming when I’m going. The other day I asked if she wanted to get coffee at the Sunrise like we did that one morning because I really enjoyed it. And she turned me down. Said she was too busy.
Except, she didn’t make eye contact. I wonder if I did something, but have been wracking my brain and can’t come up with a thing. I thought something might happen at the party we held the other night, but then I saw her with that guy on the dance floor.
Now is as good a time as any to corner her.
“What are you studying?” I walk into the living room and ask, genuinely curious.
And very turned on as she sucks a lollipop into her mouth.
Taya looks up, clearly not realizing I’ve come into the living room and seems caught off guard.
“Nuances of the written Arabic language.” She blinks.
I snort a laugh. “Sounds enthralling.”
“To me it is.” She somewhat scowls.
I hold up a hand. “Oh, shit, no, I didn’t mean … I was just teasing.”
I always seem to say the wrong shit to this girl.
Then Taya’s expression splits into a sly smile. “I’m just fucking with you.”
My heart skips a beat. “Oh, jeez, you really got me. Made me feel like a total asshole.”
“Don’t, it probably is extremely boring to anyone else. But I’m a languages major, and so this is my bread and butter.”
She swirls the stick of the lollipop, and I swear a bead of pre-cum drops into my boxers. Fuck, she should not be allowed to so innocently eat that candy.
Taking a seat next to her on the couch, we’re now just an arm’s length away. “You are? I didn’t know that.”
Now I feel like a moron for not putting two and two together in the library. Of course, she is, who studies Mandarin for fun? Well, as she said before, I guess Taya does.
“You never asked.” She shrugs, those hazel eyes lingering on me.
And there it is, that unspoken unsettling just beneath my skin. There is something she’s hiding, and I have a pit in my stomach. I can’t put a name as to why, or explain it, but it makes me want to push past her defenses.
“I thought you were just taking Mandarin as a fucked-up challenge or something. Damn. So, tell me now. Why languages?” My arm moves of its own accord, snaking over the back of the couch, and one fingertip grazes a lock of her thick brown strands. I set my beer down on the coffee table with my other hand.
Taya leans in a bit, and instantly the temperature creeps up degree by degree.
“I love how different words in different languages mean the same thing, and then some phrases mean completely different things. In English, we say I miss you. But in French, it’s you’re missing from me. There is just something so mystifying and magical about translations.”
Well, fuck. If that isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth, I don’t know what is.
Taya is intuitive, thoughtful. She’s bubbly and laid-back all at the same time and offers smiles to everyone. She isn’t a badass like Bevan or a gumdrop fairy like Amelie. Taya is straight down the middle, the true north. The irony doesn’t escape me that her last name is North, and it fits her to a tee.
When I’m with her, I know exactly what I’m going to get. She’s witty and knows how to hold a conversation, and I’m learning just how extremely smart and talented she is. Five languages? Who the hell knew five languages?
And goddamn, she’s freaking gorgeous. In her natural state, with sweatpants on and her hair piled on her head, I can make out the sun freckles across her nose.
“I’m hoping to add Russian to my repertoire at some point. Maybe if they offer it in whatever job I land.”
“You’re incredible.” It’s out of my mouth before I can help it.
I want to look away, but it’s the truth, and so I hold her gaze. That is, until she ducks her head and an awkward beat of silence passes.
“Where is your redhead?” Taya asks, never looking up from her notes.
I have to digest the question, and then a lightbulb goes on in my head. So that’s why she was dancing with some random guy the other night. The guy with no rhythm, might I add. She must have seen me talking to Virginia and made assumptions. Damn, now I’m pissed off even more than I was when I had to talk to my ex-fling. Because it cost me the night I planned to spend exploring Taya in one of our bedrooms.
“Ah, so that’s why the random guy,” I say first, not explaining myself.
There is that signature blush turning her cheeks scarlet. “I saw you watching.”
“Damn right, I was. I wanted that to be me.” Honesty is probably best here.
Those eyes, a swirl of chocolate and clover, widen. “What?”
I sigh. “Taya, the girl you obviously saw me talking to was an … she’s not even ex. We hooked up for a month or two last year, and I ended it because she isn’t a very nice person. She’s always trying to rekindle things, and I was giving her the rundown when you saw me. I’ve never been as blunt with her as I was two nights ago. And that was because I didn’t want anything interfering when I finally went to find you.”
“Oh.” She swirls that lollipop around in her mouth.
“Yeah, oh.” I chuckle and make my move.
I scoot until we’re touching. Our thighs. Our arms. Our shoulders.
“Why did we never know each other in high school?” I whisper, my breath leaving traces on her mouth.
Taya stills, her hazel eyes going wide, and I instantly know I said the wrong thing.
“We did.” She audibly gulps, pulling the lollipop from her mouth. “You danced with me at homecoming once. My sophomore year. The song was ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay. And then it ended and some Pitbull song came on. Katie Miller pulled you away to grind with her. That was the extent of us knowing each other.”
That description is not one from someone who casually interacted with me. But my head is in too much of a fog to care, with my lips just inches from hers.
I’m thinking with my cock, which is never a good thing, but I can’t help it. We’ve been skating around this for weeks, and I want a taste.
Bending, I press my mouth to hers. It’s gentle at first, a test, and Taya sucks in a breath before sliding her full lips against mine. I taste the watermelon lollipop she was just sucking on, and I want more. I palm her cheeks, the smooth skin sending a zing to my balls, as I move her so I can slant my tongue in.
And fuck, she meets me the instant I enter. The kiss deepens, and I reach down to throw her textbook off her lap. Once it’s out of the way, I pull her on top of me. Taya’s breasts mold to my pecs through our respective shirts, and I feel her shiver as she presses against me.
But fuck, the girl can kiss. She’s grinding on my lap, and I’m so hard I may just bust out of these sweatpants. My hands snake up under the hem of her sweatshirt, and the minute I hit bare skin, we both suck in a breath. Teeth skate over lips; her fingertips are buried in at the root of my hair.
I’m warring with myself in my head. Take her upstairs, or don’t. Let this continue, or stop it. I don’t want to have these thoughts; I want to be the guy who focuses on only busting a nut and not a damn thing more. But I’ve never been that guy. I care who I take to bed, which is inconvenient at times even though I know it’s an admirable quality. There are more thoughts at play than just getting off, and I can never seem to shut them off.
Which is what has me easing back from Taya.
“Is this a good idea if we’re roommates?”
Taya’s eyes are dilated with lust, and she shrugs, not making any sort of noise. Am I fucking stupid? This girl is a knockout and clearly would agree to going up to my room right now. I want her so badly that my dick is screaming at me.
But I don’t want to fuck up this living situation. I also don’t want to lead her on, because a girlfriend is the last thing I’m ready for right now. Especially one who still has two more years of college and is from my hometown. The kind of pressure that puts on me? I’m full up in that department.
“Maybe we should slow it down.” I nod to myself as if this is a good thing, what I’m saying.
As if I’m not the one who kissed her. What the fuck am I doing?
“No, yeah.” She nods, tucking her hair behind her ears and scrambling off my lap and back across the couch.
Instantly, I feel cold, lonely, and have a massive case of blue balls—no one to blame but myself. But somewhere in my bones, I know this is the right decision, even if one boner is seriously glaring at me.
“But I could stay down here. We could watch Succession. You still on season two?” I smile, trying to not-so-obviously rearrange the bulge in my pants.
“Um … yeah.” Her smile is hesitant, and I kind of hate myself for stopping this.
But I mean it. If this is something we’re going to do, ending it could mean consequences. I can’t afford not to think of those.
Plus, the rest of the night isn’t a total bust, no pun intended. We sit on the living room couch and watch a fictional fucked-up family, kind of like my real one.
I get to know Taya more than if I took her up to my bed and learn that I’m becoming even more infatuated with this girl.