Guilty Stars

5

She peered up at me through a smattering of lashes. “This says your sessions with him start next week.” “That’s right. Today will be our second and final session.” “For the moment, I’m still your counselor,” she said with false bravado. “Indeed,” I hummed, leaning in until I could smell her warm vanilla scent like fresh baked cookies at Christmas. “That means I probably shouldn’t kiss you.” Her breathing hitched. “Kissing would be very unprofessional.” “Yet … just one kiss, then I’ll behave until you have dinner with me tomorrow.” “Dinner?” she asked distractedly, her hands drifting up to my chest as if to push me away but instead melted against me. “Evie,” I warned softly. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Her eyes met mine, but she didn’t argue. It was all the permission I needed. I slid my fingers to the back of her neck and pulled her lips to mine. She arched into the movement, making my c**k impossibly hard. Our lips melded perfectly, tasting and savoring in harmony like two birds soaring together in flight. When she let a delicate moan slip, I thought I was done for. My need for her would light me on fire and incinerate me down to ash. I had to stop before I took things too far and hurt her in the process. I slowly pulled away, allowing my hands to slide down her neck to her shoulders and come to rest on her arms where goose bumps dotted her skin. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate after that,” she said almost to herself. I huffed out a laugh. “You and me both.” She glanced up at me, gently nibbling on her bottom lip. “So, tomorrow? A real date?” “No excuses.” I grinned. “Tomorrow, you’re all mine.” OceanofPDF.com 3 EVIE Kissing Michael was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. I’d been kissed plenty of times before, which was precisely why I’d been so stunned. His kiss was different than all the others. Disorienting. Intoxicating. I’d been swept away on a tidal wave of desire so massive that I could have died happy beneath the surface of its racing waters. The kiss was all I could think about as I prepared for our date the following evening. I changed my outfit three times and spent twice my usual effort on my hair and makeup. I wasn’t sure I’d been this anxious for a date even in high school. Would I have felt the same had I gone out with him back then? I recalled years before how I’d watched him from afar. How he’d stood up for Sofia against ruthless bullies and how I’d desperately wished I had someone like him to fight for me. One time, in particular, he’d stood in their faces and assaulted them with threats even they couldn’t ignore. The cafeteria had gone eerily silent as everyone witnessed the exchange. I never could imagine having someone that fierce stand by my side. From that day on, my eyes sought him out whenever he was near, which I’d essentially confessed to him in my text. I debated for agonizing minutes over sending the message. In the end, I decided that I wanted him to know that I saw him. That I’d seen who he was even back then and admired that person. Years of mental health studies told me what I’d expressed was good, but my nerves were entirely uncertain that such an admission wouldn’t scare him off. In fact, my nerves were still wound so tight that I dropped my lipstick onto the carpet when my phone burst to life, vibrating on the vanity. My stepfather’s name filled the screen. Not who I want to talk to. I let the call go to voicemail, then listened to the message, knowing I should have ignored it until after my date—Donald was a guaranteed buzzkill—but for some unfathomable reason, I listened anyway. “Evelyn, your mother is upset that you’ve selfishly refused to come to her birthday dinner. After everything we’ve done for you, I’d think the least you could do was show up for her birthday. I don’t want you ruining the evening I’ve planned by acting like a child. Sunday at Le Rivage. Be there.” Twenty-three years old and I was still being bullied by that man. Just the sound of his voice coaxed my stomach up into my throat. I deleted the message, turned up my music, and refused to allow him any room in my thoughts. Besides, first date nerves were difficult enough without my narcissist stepfather making it worse. I met Michael outside when he arrived. He kissed my cheek and instantly soothed my nerves with his presence. Something about being near him made me feel safe. Protected. Little things like the way he escorted me to his car with a comforting hand warm against the small of my back. He was the type of man who respected the people in his life, and it showed in everything he did. We ended up at a small Italian place where they greeted Michael as if he were family. The setting was casual but intimate with candles at each table and gentle violin strains filling the air. “You’re surprisingly at home here,” I said once we were seated. “I figured someone with your … associations would avoid Italian places.” “I have an unusual relationship with the Italians. This is actually one of Sofia’s family businesses, so we’re on good terms.” I’d been wondering about the status of their relationship ever since he insinuated they weren’t as close as they once were. His mention of the subject nudged me to push for an explanation. “So, are you guys still friends?” He smiled, but a sadness lurked in his eyes. “We are, but her heart was always Nico’s, and they recently reunited. I haven’t seen much of her since.”