“Sorry? There’s not much I can do to fix it. You knew what you were getting into from the beginning.”
He sets his chin on top of my head and sways me as if we’re dancing. “Let me get you a cellphone so they can reach you at any time—in my big-ass, comfortable apartment.”
“No, thank you.”
“Every time I offer to buy you something, you decline it.”
“Why would you buy me stuff? You’re lucky I let you pay for my meals. May I remind you I’m an independent woman?”
“I don’t know. Margie never says no to Aslan. Actually, she’s always demanding something new.”
Every time he talks about his brother’s girlfriend, I get the feeling that she’s a gold digger. Maybe I’m wrong. After all, I don’t know her. Aslan, Gatsby, and Lysander might be triplets, but they sound like totally different people. I wish I could meet them. Maybe one of these days I’ll accept his invitation to visit his family.
“Well, I’m not Margie, and you’re not Aslan. I’ll get a job over the summer and buy myself a phone.”
He releases me and puts his hands on my shoulders, staring at me with worry. “Hey, don’t stress out. We’ll keep sleeping here and I’ll hide. All I want is for you to be happy. I love you, Little Blue.”
Every time he calls me that, my heart flails wildly in my chest.
Is it normal to feel this way about a man?
I don’t know. I was homeschooled all my life. I took several classes at the community college, and it wasn’t until I turned eighteen that my parents agreed to let me leave the house. I moved to Atlanta, where I now study at Georgia Tech.
If my parents had a choice, I would’ve gone to Stanford or Caltech. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t offer me any scholarships. I look at Gatsby and smile because he is one of the best things about my college experience—if not the best.
He’s not only the best boyfriend in the world. He’s my rock. From the moment I arrived on campus, he held on to my hand and helped me adjust.
And best of all, he loves me as much as I love him.
He kisses my nose, brushes my lips with his. “What are you thinking?”
“That I’m lucky to have you, and maybe we should practice tomorrow’s presentation.”
“We already did that thrice. It’s time to take a break.”
“I just want it to be perfect. As you mentioned, the majority of our grade is riding on it. What if we fail?”
“Last semester you said the same about the app we created, Rencontrer, and we aced it.”
I smile. “You know we could start our own matching company. I mean, not right now, but if we set up the website, tighten the algorithm, and come up with a good marketing campaign… My graphics for the branding are pretty awesome.”
“You’re brilliant and a kick-ass artist, but there are more colors than purple, pink, and blue…” He pauses, kissing my nose again. “We’ll talk about that when we’re ready to set up our company. I’m sure Dad will back us up, and if not, I’ll use my trust.”
“First of all, we’re not taking money from anyone, I want it to succeed on its own merit. Also, we need romantic colors for the application.” We might be years from starting it, but I want to get things started.
“That’s because you’re a romantic and believe in all that stuff.”
“You don’t?”
“I believe in you and that I’ll never stop loving you.”
The insecure girl inside me asks, “Is that a bad thing?”
He hugs me again, tightening his grip. Then, he pulls us forward. We fall on the fluffy queen-size bed.
The one he bought—against my wishes—last September, after the first night he stayed with me. He claimed the single bed my parents got me was too small. Okay, he was right about that. The guy is six-three and has the body of a swimmer. He’s a combination between Johnathan Rhys Meyers’s face and Michael Phelps’s body—including the washboard abs.
“No, loving you is never a bad thing. I’m hoping that after we graduate, we’ll set up Rencontrer and everything else we come up with together. They’ll be the best applications in the world.”
“Sounds like you plan on keeping me around a long time.”
He brushes some strands of hair away from my face. “Forever if you allow it, but let’s not get sidetracked. I think you owe me something.”
He lowers his head and kisses me. As always, his mouth burns my lips, and the heat combusts my entire body. I sway on the edge between fantasy and love.
>>>> Continue Reading Can’t Help Love, Gatsby’s Story
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Along Came You
Elliot
We all think there’s a defining moment that shapes a person’s future.
There’s not one moment.
It’s a series of events that occur throughout our lives.
The person I was yesterday isn’t the same as I will be twenty years from now.
Not many guys think about the happily ever after when they’re young, but I’m pretty sure that I happened to meet the love of my life at the tender age of two. I don’t think I can say that I fell madly in love with her. We just loved each other. I believed she was my future and my everything until not one, but several events changed our lives.
At eighteen, I thought my life would be different. I planned on marrying the girl next door, living by the ocean, and having a few children.
I did marry the girl, but then destiny screwed with my life, and I lost her.
It’s been twenty-three years since I said I do. Less than twenty since the divorce and it feels like a lifetime since I let her go. She found happiness with another man. I’m no longer that teenager with dreams and an open heart.
All those moments I lived were so impactful they became a wound.
A wound so deep that I avoid certain things.
If I ever write a biography, I’d call it The Art of Avoidance.
I avoid relationships of any kind, settling down, and commitments.
I’m a drifter.
A ship that lost its anchor so long ago it keeps floating along the ocean. Well, more like flying around the world, but the result is the same. I visit my family, so they know I care about them, but I mostly keep my distance, so they don’t suffocate me.
I just arrived from Zambia. It was an almost eighteen-month trip where I helped build a hospital. The moment I arrived in San Francisco, I texted the family group chat to let them know I’m back on US soil.
For how long? I don’t know. It could be just a few days or maybe a few weeks.
No one bothers to respond immediately, but I’m not surprised that my phone rings while eating lunch. It’s Kyle, my best friend and brother-in-law.
“Hi,” I answer, setting my spoon on the napkin.
“Where are you? There’s a lot of noise in the background.” There’s no hello, how are you, or… he’s never been one to have a normal conversation.
“A coffee shop.”
“City? What city? I couldn’t find you with the fucking app. Did you change phones again?”