Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance (12 page)

I
t hits
me after three weeks of trying to get used to my cluttered new schedule. I get up early in the morning, get dressed and drive to school. I leave school and head straight to work with Grace, which also counts as socializing since I get to work with my best friend. I get off work and do homework assignments, and by midnight I’m asleep. I discover that at some point I’ve stopped feeling like a zombie from lack of sleep and gotten used to my independence. Thanksgiving week sneaks up on me with the promise of a few days off school and work that I can actually enjoy instead of spending it depositing Z’s against my sleep debt.

True to his word, I see more of Jayson leading up to the holiday than I’ve seen of him over the entire month that he’s worked on my house. I burst through the front door after getting off work Tuesday evening, and he’s still there. I’d seen his truck parked out front so I was psyched for him. “Hey,” I greet him breathlessly. “Where’s everybody else?” There’s a neat bag of trash placed against the kitchen wall from where the crew cleaned up after themselves. Other than that, the downstairs looks ready to be decorated.

Jayson leans against the countertop with his electronic notebook. “Yeah, they’re done for the day. I sent them home a little early, considering most of them have families and have to get ready for Thanksgiving. You said you wanted to be more hands-on about upstairs. I’ve got the paint catalog pulled up, and I want you to come take a look. We need colors for the bedroom, bathroom and something, paper or paint, for your office. Up the stairs along that sidewall I figure we keep the same off-white we have down here for uniformity. What do you think?”

He beckons to me, and I drop my bags. My backpack thumps to the floor. I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I step closer. Empty house? Alone with my crush? Oh, this can’t be good.

“What are my options?” I ask in a voice that doesn’t give away my bout of nerves. He slides the device my way, and I scroll through the colors with clever names like Haint Blue and Serendipity Yellow. “Wow, a smorgasbord of possibilities. Ooh, I like this one.” I point to a muted olive hue and Jayson nods.

“For the bedroom color? I do like that. Maybe we can even pair it with another to make one wall the focal point. What about that cream color for the bathroom? I think it will offset the lapis lazuli perfectly.”

Our shoulders bump as we both lean in closer. He doesn’t move, and neither do I. It feels intimate to be picking out things for my house together. “You said you weren’t much of a decorator.”

“You should see my apartment. Masculine all the way down to the brown sofa.”

“Ha! What are you and your brothers doing for the holidays?”

He chuckles as if the very thought is funny. I raise a brow. I wonder what it’s like in his world, when he isn’t working, taking charge. He’s such a warm, friendly guy. I can picture having him in my life long term, but it hits me that in a few weeks I won’t have this kind of contact with him. Or any kind of contact, probably. I suddenly feel sad.

“The four of us will take charge of cooking this year. My mom has a back injury that prevents her from being on her feet much. She lives with me. I wanted to give her the kind of Thanksgiving she’s used to without making her have to slave over a hot stove. Hey, with four boys, one of us is bound to throw together something edible. You can come if you like.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I say in surprise. “But, my mom is doing dinner this year as usual, and I’ve already told her I’ll be there. I suck in the kitchen.”

He closes the electronic notebook. “So, you and she are back on speaking terms? I don’t mean to pry. I…got the impression you moved out of her house in a hurry when you called me the night me and you…”

“Kissed?”

He drifts closer at the word. I look down, overwhelmed by the thinness of the air. It feels impossible to breathe with him standing so close to me. His brawny shoulders fill out his black work shirt, a telltale sign he’s been at the office all day, and I can smell a faint hint of his cologne. His calloused hands against the countertop look appealing, sending goose bumps up my arms. When I look back up, he’s staring at me with amber eyes that remind me of honey. I tremble slightly.

“Goddamn it, Kit,” he whispers. Jayson leans forward and cups my face with a surprisingly soft open palm, fingers tangling in my hair as he draws my lips to his. I have no ability to resist and no desire to say no. As the heat of his mouth folds over mine, I inhale sharply and swallow his fierce groan of pleasure. “Kitrina,” he murmurs into my mouth. My tongue curls against his with a beckoning flick, and he kisses me harder. His arms slide around me and my hands slide to the back of his head to deepen the fiery kiss that leaves my pelvis throbbing with a crazy mix of uncertainty and sureness. It’s like his body understands the unspoken plea because his thigh slips between mine, pressing hard against my pelvis, eliciting a gasp from me.

I break away breathlessly.

“I’m sorry,” he hurriedly states. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Jayson rakes a hand over his crew cut, breathing raggedly. I shake my head and touch my lips with wonder at how they still tingle. My cheeks are whisker-burned from his five o’clock shadow, but it doesn’t even hurt. Eyes glossy with desire, I look him up and down, unable to miss the ridge of his erection visible beneath his jeans.

“Don’t be sorry,” I mumble. I’m half in a daze. My hands reach for him mindlessly, and he grabs my fingers and pushes my hands to my side, stepping closer to me.

With a sober frown, he addresses me. “No, Kit, you don’t understand. I’m not the kind of guy to seduce a woman I have no intentions of being with on a deeper level, and that’s not something either of us can commit to. In another three weeks, both of us will have moved on. This would be a mistake. We can’t do this.”

One of us has to be the voice of reason. I sigh, coming back to my senses and dropping my gaze, embarrassed by what transpired. “You don’t have to apologize,” I reiterate. “Thank you for showing me the paint colors.” I clear my throat and try to regain my composure.

“I work for you, and that’s all this is. The proximity—being alone with you like this—I mean, you’re an attractive woman. Any man in my position would want you, but I can’t take advantage of you,” he further explains.

I laugh ruefully. “It’s alright, I told you.” Jayson looks as if he wants to say something more. I head him off by walking across the living room and opening the front door. He nods, accepting. “Look, it was a harmless kiss and not the first time, right? We can be adult about this. It shouldn’t get in the middle of our working relationship,” I say with a worldliness that I lack. I’m shaken to the core by the kiss and aroused beyond words, but what’s to be done about it? Absolutely frigging nothing. I paste on a tense smile and wait for him to leave.

“Before I go, you told me you were looking for furniture. A friend of mine is having an estate sale, and I may be able to talk him down on some of the prices if there’s anything you want that’s out of your budget. I—well, I don’t know how wise it would be for us to be together more than necessary—but I can take you if you want to go with me. It’s after Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll let you know. Just remind me about it later.”

He ducks out the front door and I swiftly close it and lean against the door with an agonized exhale. I shyly slide a hand down to my pelvis to the place he set ablaze with just a kiss…a harmless kiss. I moan and move my hand away. “Jayson, what are you doing to me?” I whisper.

“Sorry I’m late, Penny,” I call out. The home health aide ambles into the living room with a word search book in hand and a smile on her face.

“It was no trouble, Mr. Zephyr. She’s already asleep.”

“Thanks, Penny. See you tomorrow.” I see her out and lock the door behind her. As soon as the coast is clear I peel out of my shirt because I drove the whole way home with the scent of Kit’s perfume clinging to the fabric, and I feel like I’m about to go crazy if I don’t put some distance between us.

I drop the shirt on the floor by the front door of my apartment as I hike to my bathroom and turn on the shower with a loud hiss of water hitting the tiled floor. “You can’t have her,” I mumble. “You cannot have her. Get that through your thick skull. You’re from two different worlds, and the minute she finds out how different you are, she’s going to want you even less!”

In the back of my head I know I shouldn’t retain the insecurities of my youth, but when you grow up getting pushed around and talked about for having less than others, the idea of not being good enough gets ingrained. I unbuckle my jeans and undress, stepping naked under the lukewarm spray. The water sluices down my chest, working against my lust. I can’t rinse her out of my system completely, but I can at least cool down. With a clearer head I consider how risky it was for me to invite her to that estate sale. Being with Kit makes me feel like I’m waging a war against myself. A part of me knows I should keep my distance, but the rest of me wants to get closer.

I press a palm to the wall, fingers splayed. I drop my head and let the water wash down the back of my head and over my neck and back. I can almost feel her in my arms, her body pressed against mine, the rainforest heat between her thighs. I groan. Like I told her, in a few weeks we won’t even see each other again. I can’t shake the feeling I’m not putting up enough of a fight. She’s funny, intelligent and ambitious. She’s sexy and spunky, everything a guy could want in a girlfriend, but here I am making it easy for her to exit my life. I think of exactly what’s standing between us getting involved. There’s her mother, who doesn’t approve of me, her college career that she can’t put on hold for me, and her busy life that doesn’t leave any time for her to be with me—and that’s only on her end.

I finish my shower and get dressed in loose-fitting lounge pants, padding tiredly into my bedroom. I know the rationale behind leaving her alone, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. “Why can’t you have her?” I whisper. My eyebrows clash together in a frown, and suddenly none of the reasons seem good enough. When I was seventeen and counselors, teachers and everyone else around me seemed to think a college education wasn’t in my future, I made it happen. When I graduated from college and everyone told me I should settle for working for someone else, I rejected their logic and started my own company. I’ve never accepted a no when I wanted a yes.

A smile curves across my lips. Why start now?

W
hen I pull
up in front of Mom’s house, I almost feel like I’m coming home. Luckily, I have my own place across town. I smile as I kill the engine and hop out, strutting up to the front door in a black pantsuit and black pumps that should impress even my mother. With hair pulled up in a neat chignon, I’m channeling all the adulthood I possess. I ring the doorbell instead of letting myself in, even though I still have the key. I don’t live here anymore.

“Ah, Kitrina, there you are! Fashionably late, at that. You look amazing. Come in, come in, dear. We were just about to get started.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I lean forward and air kiss her instead of hugging. Mom’s lips twitch in a smirk, and I smile demurely, following her through the marble foyer to the dining room where familiar faces are waiting, including some people from the hospital where she works and her small circle of friends. There are fifteen guests filling the long dining table in the blue velvet room. I look around as if seeing the place for the first time. It feels different now that it’s not mine. I notice for the first time that Mom has exquisite taste in home décor. Maybe I did get it from her.

“The prodigal daughter returns,” Mom says lightly.

“Our youngest little homeowner,” says her friend Patricia with a smile. “Your mother told us all about that stunt you pulled, buying your own house right under her nose. Kitrina, how’d you ever get up the nerve to do such a thing?”

“Well…” I’m taken aback by her question. Generally mother’s friends talk around me or talk about me, but rarely do they talk to me. Inwardly, I beam at finally being taken seriously. “As it turned out, it was as brash a move as it probably looks. The house needed tons of work, but I’m happy with it nonetheless. I’ve decided to keep it instead of selling it, and the renovations are nearly complete. I can’t wait to host a housewarming party.”

“I know I better be on the list of invites, then. She completely takes after you, Candace,” Pat says, not for the first time. It doesn’t feel like an insult anymore. I might not have Mom’s innate charms, but I certainly know how to put on a show. I shake out my napkin and daintily place it across my lap, surveying the delectable spread mom has prepared. All the essentials are present, as well as vegan options and non-pork options and everything in between. She’s really outdone herself.

“This looks delicious, Mother.”

“Thank—“

“Kitrina, how have your studies been coming along?” one of our neighbors asks.

I look up, surprised at being addressed again. “My GPA is still a 4.0. I have finals after the Thanksgiving holiday, but I anticipate high marks again this semester. I’ve also been given an internship opportunity that I’m looking into. My mentor, Professor Amy Schwartz—you may have heard of her; she’s famous in the décor and design world—believes the internship will get me closer to my dream of having my own interior design show.”

“Is that so? Congratulations! I have no doubt, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything!”

A flush of appreciation moves over me when the mention of having my own show is warmly accepted instead of hastily dismissed in a sea of chuckles. I glance at my mom who hasn’t said two words since I entered the room. When the buzz of my arrival dies down, Mom comes out of her shell to chat with her friends, although she doesn’t take her eyes off me. There’s a frisson of tension in the room, and I wonder if she resents me taking a smidgen of the attention that is normally hers. Perhaps it bothers her that her predictions of me falling flat on my face without her didn’t come true.

I sigh as I quietly watch the goings-on and catch up on neighborhood gossip, but my attention isn’t really on the conversation. I look around at the house I grew up in and feel another twinge of homesickness tempered by the relief of knowing I’m welcome to come home when I want to be here and able to
go
home—to my house—when I need to go.

After the main course, Mom beckons for me to follow her to the kitchen. It feels like déjà vu. I reluctantly excuse myself and follow her out of the dining room. “Yes?” I murmur. She closes the kitchen door behind us.

“I didn’t know if you were staying after dinner, but I wanted a chance to speak with you in private before you go. I know you have work and all that.”

“Oh, I’m off today,” I assure her. I don’t want her thinking I’m working day and night, although I am. I have to be in first thing in the morning since I took on an extra shift while off from school. “Wassup?” Mom leans a hand against the countertop and puts the other on her hip, looking me over closely.

“You look…different. Reminds me of when you were little, any time I would let you go off somewhere for any length of time you’d come back looking like you had grown up while I wasn’t watching.”

I chuckle at the memory. “You’d always tell me I sprouted two inches after summer camp. I did the math. I’d be a giant if I truly grew as much as you thought I did.”

“No, but you’ve really grown up on me this time. While I wasn’t watching…Kitrina, I just want you to know that I want you to succeed. I haven’t been over here praying for your defeat so you can come running back to the nest, although I confess that empty nest crap is totally true. I have no idea what to do with myself without you here.”

I pull her into a hug and squeeze her close. “Mommy, I told you to come visit me sometimes. I’ll come visit you more, too.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Mom pulls away from me with a stern look that tells me I’m in for a firm talking to and that I should listen up.

I groan and cross my arms. “What? What is it?” It strikes me that Mother looks a little older than the last time I saw her, too. Her ash blond hair, normally perfectly colored by her salonist, is showing sable roots. The rust-red tunic cinched by a slender brown belt at the waist shows off her toned physique, and she could easily pass for someone in her early thirties instead of her early fifties, but she’s lost some of her youthful glow.

“Honey, you’ve done better than expected with the house, but over time it’s going to become a handful. Hear me out. You need to come back here to live. You can keep the house, and when you graduate you can move in there. I really believe now is the time to throw all your energy into finishing school, and you can’t do that if you’re worried about maintaining a property.”

“You still think I’m going to fail.” My jawline steels. It’s a fight I’m tired of having and a point I’m tired of having to prove.

“Kitrina, everybody fails a few times at this before they get it right. There is no phase of your life that comes without some mistakes along the way, from learning how to walk to learning, as you so aptly described it, to fly. I’ve let you spread your wings and see what’s out there, but the best place for you during this delicate transition is here where you can get the help you need. You’re too proud to ask. I know you are. You’re my child.”

“Then you know what I have to say to this. The answer is no, Mom. Please stop asking me. You say everyone fails? Well, I’m not everyone.”

Mom frowns and shrugs, dropping her hands dramatically. “See for yourself, then. I’m trying to give you the chance to come back with your pride in hand. The alternative is you come slinking back after things go terribly wrong. Either way, I’ve extended the invitation.”

“I have to go. I’m meeting with Grace this evening since she didn’t go home,” I lie. I’ve reached the limit of badgering and snide remarks that I can take for one day.

“Fine,” Mom spits, waving me away.

I sigh and discreetly leave the house through the kitchen side door instead of passing back by the dining room and leaving in front of guests. I’m sure Mother will come up with an excuse for my absence when she gets back to the table. With a tension headache coming on, I climb into my car and shoot homeward where no one is waiting for me and there’s nothing to do. Grace stayed in town, but she made plans to spend the holiday with another friend of hers. I wonder idly if the friend is Castiel, which makes me think of Jayson, which makes me turn the stereo louder so I don’t have to think about anything at all.