Falling for Rex by Shayne Ford
3
LUNA
“The red dress, please,”Frankie says, chewing on a baby carrot.
“No way,” I mutter, yanking the hanger from Frankie’s hand. “I’m not flashing my boobs.”
She plops onto my bed, pouting.
Is not that I don’t like the red dress–– it’s one of my favorites–– but I can’t reveal my chest and neck.
Her pick for me has a halter neckline, an open back, and a tiny zipper that holds it together across my butt.
Even if I layer it with a jacket, I still can’t cover the skin marks and my bruises.
I’ve spent the entire day wrapped in a robe and my long-sleeved pajamas, and now I’m dressed in a hoodie and my sweatpants.
I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed that despite the gorgeous weather outside and the summer breeze sweeping the rooms, I’m dressed for a blizzard.
The more I mull over this, the more I realize going to the party would be a mistake.
The smart thing would be to refuse her invitation and not show up at Amber’s house.
It’s difficult to do it now that I’ve already said yes.
Short of pretending that I’m sick, there’s nothing I can say to get myself out of this jam.
Rex asked me to come.
Carlos asked Frankie to come.
Besides, she’s waited for these parties the entire year.
I told her that I’m not against them, and what better way to prove it than dressing up and going to this party?
“You can wear it if you want to,” I say, trying to remove the red dress from her short list of suggestions.
Her eyes light up.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. You may need a belt or something to lift the waistline a little. The bodice might be too long for you.”
She seems undeterred by the detail, jumping out of bed and snatching it from my hand to try it on.
Impatiently, she peels her shorts and slides the garment on. Tugging at the hemline, she ensures that it covers her chest.
“Tie it tighter behind your neck.”
She follows my advice before smoothing the fabric with one hand and brushing her hair with the other.
“Not bad,” she murmurs, glancing in the mirror.
“I think it’s great,” I mutter, shifting my eyes to a pink long-sleeved shirtdress.
I lift it from the bed.
Made of crisp cotton, it hits slightly lower than the red dress, has rhinestones studded buttons at the front, and features a tailored fit.
The chest pockets give it a safari vibe with a feminine twist.
“Seriously?” she says.
I raise my gaze.
Hands clutched on her hips, she tips her chin toward my pick.
“What’s up with that?” she asks.
“What’s wrong with it?”
I lift the hanger and look at it. Cuffing up the sleeves, I can reveal my forearms but not my marks. The fabric is smooth–– the color is warm.
“Nothing, if you’re interviewing for a job.”
“It’s going to be cold tonight.”
“We’re not going camping,” she says, tossing me an amused grin. “Besides, we’re not alone. Between the cocktails, dancing, and making out, do you think we’ll need a sweater or something?”
I laugh.
“Nights are cold. What if we’re making out outside?” I joke.
She cheers in response, doing a happy dance.
I laugh.
“Why are you so happy?”
She points to me.
“You’re finally breaking your chastity vow and planning on making out with that hottie.”
I wave her off.
“There’s no chastity vow. And making out with him when he doesn’t even pick me up to take me to the party doesn’t score points with me.”
She gestures at me, impatiently.
“You’re too old fashion. Olivia wouldn’t even think that way.”
She takes her dress off.
“It’s the truth,” I say.
Swiftly, she puts on a robe.
“But you liked it?” she mutters, setting her dress on the bed and plopping onto the mattress next to it.
“I liked what?”
I tear my eyes away from her, spin around, and shed my sweatpants swiftly before shrugging the pink dress on when she doesn’t look at me.
“Him,” she says.
I move in front of the mirror, focused solely on my dress.
Smoothly, I pop the collar and button it up, keeping my eyes on my reflection.
“It was good...” I mutter.
Her voice explodes behind me.
“Oh, come on... That’s it?”
I tip my chin up and look at her in the mirror.
“What else?” I ask, smiling.
“He’s hot.”
“Hmm... Yes, he’s good looking,” I say in a clipped voice.
She studies me for a second before throwing her arms in the air.
“Oh, my God... Aren’t you a queen carved out of ice? Seriously?”
I laugh.
“Seriously. He’s, um... pleasant.”
“Oh, please. Shut up.”
She gestures at me, vehemently, laughing.
“You spent the night with him,” she blurts.
I break my stare away from her and shift my attention to my dress, tugging at the collar and the hem before cuffing my sleeves up.
“It was, um... It was more like a field trip.”
“What?”
I glance at her in the mirror and smile.
“It’s not what you think.”
She looks confused.
“Did he do something to you?”
“To me?”
She nods a couple of times, wide-eyed, hope flashing through her gaze.
“Yes.”
“Did he do the whole thing?”
“He didn’t. We didn’t go there to do anything, to begin with. I don’t think so...”
She rolls her eyes.
I continue, unfazed.
“He wanted to show me this secret place. We talked about his family, and then we slept in that cave. It was great. Amazing, in fact, and the ocean looked fantastic.”
She moves her hand, making an annoyed gesture.
“Leave the unimportant details out. I want to know if he touched you.”
My smile drops, untethered from my lips.
“Yes, he did,” I say, frowning at the mirror.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, studying my flanks.
“I don’t understand.”
She sounds baffled, so I turn around.
“What?”
“He spent time with you, and you’re still... Are you still...?”
I smile.
“Mostly.”
From under the bed, I scoop out a shoebox.
“I have the perfect heels for this dress. You’ll see. I’ll make it work,” I say, moving away from the topic.
She grips my arm as I pull up.
“Wait,” she says, her touch sliding away. “Did you push him away?”
I sigh, reluctant to revisit that moment.
Slowly, I slip on the bed and slide the lid off.
I freeze, looking down. Avoiding her stare.
“I didn’t push him away. I think he knows what’s going on. He didn’t do anything to make me reject him. He touched me,” I say, my head tilted down, my fingers resting on the pink heels adorned with satin ankle bows.
Tiny flashbacks breathe life into that memory.
It was dark and cold. And then it was hot and painful, and the pleasure was intense, addictive.
A shudder barrels through me.
“Was it that bad?” she asks, noticing my quivering.
I tilt my head to her.
“It wasn’t bad.”
Her eyes dive into mine, looking for answers.
“Did he kiss you?”
I hold her gaze, my mind sifting through more memories, recreating the entire story.
He never kissed my lips. Not last night.
Had he done that, I would’ve had him between my legs.
I was so close to it, anyway, but he didn’t do it because of me. He also didn’t do it because of himself.
Maybe he was afraid that once we had slipped down that path, we wouldn’t be able to come back.
Had he hovered over me and pushed his tongue between my lips, connecting his mouth with mine, and breathing into me, tasting me, and feeling the fever he had put in me, he would’ve spread my legs and easily slid into me.
It would’ve happened. He stopped it from happening.
For the most part, I wanted him to do that, to delay the outcome and increase the anticipation, yet everything that ended up happening wasn’t much different than going all the way.
I’m still thinking about it.
Whether I ate, read, or talked to Frankie, those moments played in the back of my mind the entire day.
I can’t remove it from my memory, not even the fantasy of him on top of me and his hard length buried inside me.
It’s still a mystery how he entered my mind so fiercely and altered the way I look at things.
“Yes, he kissed me,” I lie.
She reads my expression, analyzing my intonation.
“It was good,” I say, anticipating a question from her.
“That’s it?”
“Mmm-hmm. And then he dove into the ocean, swam for a good hour, and came back while I was asleep. He wrapped me in his arms, waking me briefly before we both drifted off to sleep.”
“Huh...” she blurts, intrigued.
“What?”
She wraps her arms around her knees.
“Nothing.”
Her eyes no longer hold mine as she struggles with a thought.
Now, I’m curious.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head, avoiding my eyes.
“Tell me, Frankie.”
She looks away.
I slide closer to her and cuff her wrist.
“Tell me.”
She looks at me again.
“It’s nothing... I mean... It’s romantic and all, but he didn’t strike me as someone who is so courteous with a woman... if you know what I mean.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, taken aback by her words. “Do you know anything about him?”
She doesn’t answer.
I press further.
“Why am I hearing about this only now?”
“It’s nothing bad.”
Too late to take it back.
“Tell me.”
She shrugs.
“He and his brother have a reputation.”
“Did you know about that?”
She shakes her head.
“Not in the beginning. Carlos told me last night.”
Something crumbles inside me.
“What did he tell you?”
“They are in high demand and play the field. They get the women that they like and get them fast.”
I tip my head to the side, an incredulous chuckle leaving my lips.
“Are you serious? You knew all that, and you wanted a man like that for me?”
She gestures, annoyed.
“It’s nothing like that. I tried to judge him based on his behavior, not the stories that I’ve heard. Besides, he was a gentleman to you and me.”
She pauses.
“Right?” she asks, waiting for a confirmation.
“Yes,” I mutter, my throat dry.
“I asked about Rex last night, but I’m not sure whether Carlos knew what he was talking about. You know how men are. They like to blow things out of proportion, especially when it comes to women.”
“What did he say?”
She looks at me, mum.
I wrestle with a pang of suspicion.
“What did he say, Frankie?”
My voice is firm, laced with panic.
A smile flickers across her lips.
