Finding Peace (Finding Series Book 1) (7 page)

“Way to go Blake!” Someone yells from behind us followed by cheering and clapping.

He steps behind me and places a hand on each side of my hips and leans into my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck and ear as he whispers, “Ignore them. Just keep walking.”

“Kayla! Where are you going?” Tessa shouts over the crowd at us.

Blake removes one of his hands and turns to look back at Tessa. “She’ll be fine. We are just going outside where it’s a little quieter.”

He turns back and continues to lead me through the door. As we step outside, the noise from the crowd inside becomes muffled. Looking around, it seems that most of the crowd that was here when we first walked in has either moved inside or left. Hyper aware of the lack of security, we are basically alone out here. I don’t have Tessa or Max as a buffer.

We’ve stopped and are just looking into each other’s eyes. He reaches up and moves a piece of hair out of my eyes and slips it behind my ear. I look down at his left hand, trying to answer my earlier question. Nope, no ring. That means he isn’t married. So maybe it’s just the mustache that makes him look a little older than he actually is.

I blurt out. “How old are you?”

The heat of his eyes burn into me, but I don't look up. “You want to go over and sit on one of the benches? I don’t want to have a conversation with you standing in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Sure.” I look up at him and smile. Every time, every single time, he takes my breath away.

He runs his right hand down my left arm and joins our hands. Our fingers intertwine and that’s when it happens. He lowers his head and turns my hand over in his looking at the small diamond on my ring finger.

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. All I can do is close my eyes and pray for the words that will explain the situation I am in. He jerks his head up and looks at me with his brows drawn in and I can see… What is that… hurt? How can he be hurt? He doesn’t even know me.

I take my bottom lip into my mouth and bite it. His mouth drops open and his eyes drop down to my mouth. I release my lip. “I’ll explain. Let’s just go sit down first.”

He continues to hold onto my hand, but he clenches his jaw and nods his head. He looks more mad than upset. That was a quick change. We walk over to a bench that is actually around the corner of the building. He finally releases my hand and I put my hands in my lap and twist them together.

“So, you’re engaged?” He’s leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands are clamped together. He isn’t looking at me. Instead, he’s looking off into the distance.

I don’t know what this is, this crazy chemistry we have, but it’s intense and it makes me feel as if I need to apologize for being engaged. This, of course, is ridiculous because I don’t know him, he doesn’t know me and I don’t owe him anything. So why do I want him to know, and above all, understand?

“Technically. Yes, I’m engaged.” I wait for him to respond.

He sits up, turns his body toward me and bends his left knee up onto the bench so that now his shin is touching my thigh. Doesn’t he realize that touching me in any way is just going to make it harder for me to explain through my now clouded brain?

“Technically. What does that even mean? There’s a ring on your finger and I’m pretty sure that means you’re engaged. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Because if it was me that put that ring on your finger, you sure as hell wouldn’t be here by yourself.”

I can hear the tension in his voice. The very ring that is upsetting him, is the same ring that feels like a weight on my finger dragging me down. And never more than it is at this very moment.

I place my left hand behind my neck, rubbing it, trying to relax my now tense muscles. He rests his left arm on the back of the bench and lifts my hair off of my neck. I remove my hand and he replaces it with his. His touch makes my whole body melt and relax, but heat up at the same time.

“If you want answers to your questions. You are going to have to stop doing that.” I say breathlessly.

He removes his hand and runs it down his face and adjusts in his seat as if he is trying to get comfortable. I try to hide my smile from him and I think that’s a blush I see. No way. Mr. Sexy blushing? Surely that doesn’t happen.

“Oh, you think this is funny.” He is giving me a crooked smile.

“Trust me; I don’t think anything about this is funny.” I give him a serious look.

“Okay. So maybe I keep my hands to myself and you tell me the story behind this ring that I am growing to hate by the minute.”

“I think that might be a good idea. Where do I start?”

“How about why that ring is on your finger? And what I can do to get rid of it?”

Kayla

I stare out at the grassy lot that is in front of us. “I don’t think there is anything you can do. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. And this,” I hold my ring finger up to him, “it’s become like a handcuff that is keeping me attached to a guy I want nothing more to do with.”

“It sounds like there’s an easy solution then. Break it off. And do it now. We’ll go back inside, you can call him, tell him you’re breaking off the engagement and breaking up with him. I’ll even stand beside you while you do it.” I can feel his eyes on me and I know he’s hoping I will say okay.

“Is that what you would want? To have someone break off their engagement to you over the phone.” He starts to touch me, but tries to play it off by raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“No, I wouldn’t. But I also wouldn’t want someone to stay with me if they didn’t love me. So if he really loves you, he should want you to be happy. And obviously you aren’t happy.”

Now I’m the one turning on the bench to face him. Resting my right arm on the back of the bench, he turns to face me. Picking up my arm with his right hand, I begin to wonder what the heck he's doing. The answer soon shows when he places his left arm on the back of the bench, where mine once was, then replaces mine on top of his. He might act cocky, but I suspect there’s a true southern gentleman under that tough exterior.

“No reason for you to be uncomfortable.” He says.

“What happened to you not touching me? I think this qualifies as touching.”

He looks up for a split second like he’s trying to come up with an answer.

Then he responds with, “Actually, you’re the one breaking the rules. You’re touching me.”

Okay, two can play this game. “You touched me first when you picked up my arm and I’m still not touching you because you put my arm on your arm that makes it your fault.” Game. Set. Match.

“Don’t play this game with me Kayla, you won’t win.” He is trying his best to be serious, yet he can barely contain his smile.

“I’m pretty sure my arm would have survived being up on the back of the bench. It’s not like its hot coals or something.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Maybe.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Oh, I get an eye roll for trying to make you comfortable. I think you might be a little grateful to me.”

“I can tell now that you are going to be impossible to deal with.” I smirk at him.

“But you could have a lot of fun trying.” He says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“We are getting off track here.” I take a deep breath and start. “Back to your questions, so here goes. I hope you’re ready for this.” He nods his head, indicating for me to start.

“I met him my sophomore year. I didn’t know anyone. He was older, I was lonely, and we started seeing each other. I didn’t really know who he was and it turned out I could have chosen a lot better. He’s never treated me badly. I thought I loved him, but after some major things happened, my feelings started to change.”

He’s listening to my every word. So I continue.

“What I thought was love turned into more of a love you would have for a sibling. And now, I don’t think there is anything left not even like.”

“Okay, Crazy question. Why are you still engaged to him?”

“That’s the million dollar question. I’ve tried to break up with him many times, but he always loses it and threatens to kill himself if I leave him.”

“Wow! How long has this been going on?” He asks.

“At least three or four months. Let’s just say I didn’t agree to marry him for the right reasons to begin with.”

I watch his face for any sign of how he is taking this information I am giving him. He seems worried. His face shows his concern for me and it seems to be completely genuine. He takes my hand and gently holds it. Being so sweet and comforting me, as I tell him things that I don’t easily share.

“You do realize he is doing that to manipulate you? You don’t honestly think he would kill himself, do you?”

“No, I really don’t. I know he is saying that just so I’ll stay with him. Before this trip, he made it pretty clear that things were going to change when I got back. I’ve been avoiding him. I can’t stand for him to even hold my hand.”

“That’s pretty bad. You have to break it off. Why would you do this to yourself? Stay with someone you don’t love.”

“I can’t bring myself to hurt him.”

“So you’d rather hurt yourself? That’s messed up Kayla.”

“You don’t know the whole story.”

I’m getting a little angry with him. He doesn’t know anything about any of it.

He puts his right hand up to my face. All my anger leaves and I lean into him and close my eyes. “Tell me the whole story,” he says softly and sincerely.

Sighing in defeat I reply. “I can’t.”

He drops his hand. “So, we’ve got a week right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Max said y’all are here for Spring Break. Spend some time with me this week? We can hang out just have some fun. I know you feel this thing between us. It’s too strong to just walk away from.”

“I’m engaged, Blake.”

“The way I see it, you have a ring on your finger that belongs to another man but clearly he doesn’t hold your heart. I’m not asking for anything more than a week to get to know each other and find out what this pull is that we have. I won’t lie. I’m hoping against all hope that after this week you will gain the confidence to leave him because right now.” He swallows hard. I watch his Adam’s apple go up and down. “Right now, I can’t stand the thought of you walking away from me.”

“Oh! You sure are good with words Mr. Se….” I cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe I just got ready to call him Mr. Sexy to his face. He’s smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary.

He leans his ear toward me. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”

Trying desperately to change the subject. I remind him of my earlier question.

“You know you never answered my question. How old are you?”

He laughs. “Not going to finish what you were saying. Huh?”

I pull the corner of my mouth between my teeth and shake my head no. He laughs harder and shakes his head at me.

“That’s ok; I think I got the gist of that comment. Your question. I forgot about that. The ring, kind of distracted me. I’m twenty. How old are you?”

“You talk like you’re a lot older than twenty.”

“Really? Thanks, I guess.” That look, that intense stare he gives me makes me want to crawl into his lap and let him wrap me up in his arms.

“I’m seventeen.”

He moves back and looks at me with a stunned look on his face. Scrunching up my face I ask, “Is that a deal breaker for you?”

“When will you be eighteen?”

“In four weeks.” I’m laughing now because he lets out a big sigh like he was holding his breath.

He puts his hand over his heart and clutches at his chest. “That was close. You about gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s funny.” I’m trying not to laugh because he does look really pale.

“No, that’s not funny. Not wanting to end up in jail, that’s not a laughing matter. Not to mention having a pissed off father coming after me with a shot gun. I’d prefer to stay breathing and not through a tube.” He chuckles a little. “A month from being eighteen, I can handle, more than that probably not. Now that my heart is back to a normal rhythm, I want to thank you for agreeing to talk to me. And sharing with me at least part of your story.” He gets up and stands in front of me looking at his watch.

“Anytime.” I say.

“Do you like to dance?” He asks

“Very much so.” He reaches both hands out to me. I reach up to take them and he pulls me into a hug. This feels so good. How can I feel so drawn to someone I just met?

“There’s a dance club we go to every Saturday night. Come with me tomorrow night.”

Pulling back, I look up at him. The same irritation fills me at my height. It always seems I'm looking up to everyone.

“I would love to, but what time do you go?” I ask, knowing that Tessa has a curfew. I can’t believe she isn’t looking for me yet. Maybe she has been. We can’t be seen over here.

“We don’t get there until eleven,” he replies.

“That could be a problem. Tessa’s curfew is at midnight. So an hour isn’t long when you have to include travel time.”