Walk with Me (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) (4 page)

When I recover and steady myself, I peer into the mirror. They are kind of cute and the red bow does add a little pop to my basic black top. Justification pushes aside my guilt for all the money he’s spending today, and I agree to take the ears.

“Okay. I’ll take these.” I hand them to the salesgirl. “Thank you.” I smile sweetly at Donovan.

“You are more than welcome. Now should we ride Pirates before dinner?” he asks the group.

“Yeah, I’ve heard they’ve changed it more since the last movie came out,” Tyler says, paying for Danielle’s set of ears and his new brown Fedora with Disneyland scrolled along the side.

Donning our new purchases, we head to the pirate ride. Time has been flying by so fast today. It’s already evening.

Oh, Pirates of the Caribbean
. That’s the pirate ride they keep referring to. Donovan sits next to me in the boat as we float through the darkness of what seems like the backdrop of a swamp. To the right, up ahead, my vision is drawn to lights and people sitting at tables.

Donovan grabs my thigh and the contact startles me with a tingle running up my leg. My groin tightens with his touch so close to an intimate area. “That’s where we’re having dinner.” He removes his hand and points to the tables of people.

I swallow audibly. “That’s a restaurant?” I lean closer to Donovan.

Donovan turns his head to face me and his lips are mere inches away from mine. His speech slows and sounds more like background music to my ears. “Yes, and a very good one, too.”

The closeness in this dark setting and Donovan’s hand on my thigh makes me want to close the gap between our lips and connect the way I think we both are craving. I can feel his breath coming faster between his barely parted lips. If I were to lean toward him I could finally taste those beautiful, full lips.

In the past, with other guys, I liked to be in control and initiate. Being in control makes me feel safe, but for some reason I want Donovan to make the first move. He’s different and I want to deviate from my usual way.

I turn my head away, shifting my body squarely in my seat, taking sedative breaths. In my peripheral vision, I think I see and hear Donovan doing the same. Recovering from my near-kiss experience, I try to enjoy the ride.

Tyler was right. The ride reminds me of the movie. At the end, Donovan steps out of the boat first, capturing my hand with his and squeezing tightly as we walk to the restaurant. Holding hands seems to be the safe zone for today, and I’ll take what I can get.

Dinner is delicious. Danielle and I had the chef split our shared meal for us. We got a little serving of vegetables and yummy potatoes with our half steak. Who would’ve thought you could order such a fancy dinner at an amusement park?

We don’t linger at dinner long because everyone wants to power through more rides and shows. The rest of the evening flows like the first half of the day. At Danielle’s direction, we take the train around the perimeter of the park over to the Matterhorn. This is for two reasons. One, so Tyler can do the ride in the dark—I guess the experience is more exciting when it’s dark—and two, Danielle wants to get a good spot for the parade. She’s all excited because they are going to have snow fall at the end.

Admittedly, Danielle knows her stuff, and she gets a perfect spot on a bench. I wish we had stopped for our jackets, though, because it’s starting to get too cold for just my lightweight sweater. Donovan must notice this because he puts his arm around me, pulling me closer to him, and rubs my arms and shoulders to warm me. My body temperature skyrockets. One of his touches charges me with heat and the closeness at this moment is electrifying. Every sweep of his hand up my arm releases tiny electric pulses that skate across my chest.

“There, is that better?” he asks. He stops rubbing me but leaves his arm around my shoulder.

“That’s great.” I smile up at him with appreciation. “Thank you. You’re like a giant heating blanket.”

Donovan says nothing in return, gazing into my eyes with an emotion I can’t place and like we’re on the only two people here. I melt into him and he slowly leans toward me, but stops abruptly and pulls his gaze away from my eyes—again breaking the spell.

I take in a deep disappointed breath and exhale, refocusing on the crowd assembling in front of us. What the hell was that? I can tell he felt it this time, too—that strong pull and push.

The parade is fun to watch with all the Disney characters dancing and singing along the route, and at the end snow blows down from above. I stand up and hold out my hands to catch some snowflakes, but it feels funny. “Is this snow?” I turn and ask Donovan.

He chuckles at me. “No, they’re bubbles they blow to look like real falling snow.” His facial expression becomes incredulous. “Haven’t you ever seen real snow?” he asks quizzically.

“No. We only stayed at the beach or the desert. My mom doesn’t like the cold,” I snap back, embarrassed again with my lack of life experience.

“Hmm,” Donovan says with a look of contemplation is in his eyes.

We decide to leave after the parade. Danielle is spending the night at Tyler’s so we drop them off first before Donovan drives me home.

“Bye, Donovan. Thanks for driving,” Danielle and Tyler say, shutting the passenger-side door on me. I move up front to sit next to Donovan for rest of the ride home.

For the first time today, my stomach twists with nerves. I had fun with Donovan and he seemed to be more and more into me as the day went on, with all the touching and hand-holding. But now we are alone in awkward silence without our Tyler-and-Danielle buffer and the anticipation is brewing. Is he going to try to kiss me? I think he wants to. I know I want to kiss him.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Donovan says when he pulls up to the front of my house. He walks around the car and begs for my hand as I step out. We walk up the path without speaking.

I turn the key in the front door and turn back to face Donovan. The porch light is on, illuminating his gorgeous features. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. “Thank you for a perfect day. You made my first time at Disneyland memorable.”

A slow smile fills his face and he regards me with adoring eyes before lifting his hand to cup my cheek. “I enjoyed sharing that first experience with you, Kenna. I hope the first of many. I’ll give you a call in a couple days and check in with you.” He trails his fingers along my jawline, keeping his eyes locked on mine, and then drops his hand and steps back. No kiss.

I smile with disappointment, nodding because the lump in my throat has now been replaced with a rock. “Okay,” is all I’m able to manage, barely audible to my own ears as I shut the front door.

The house is dark and quiet. Danielle’s parents must already be asleep. I go to my room and flop back on my bed, letting my legs slack off the side.

What the hell am I doing? This guy is dangerous to me. He is so good looking and smooth, and the chemistry between us is undeniable. More than the physical connection, though, is the sense of security I feel around him. The way he looks at me, like he knows who I am and what I need from him, ignoring my tough-girl act and exposing the hurt little girl inside. Letting a guy get so close to the real me is terrifying, but the idea is also liberating. I know I’m in trouble now.

As promised, Donovan calls and checks in with me a couple days later. He wants to take me out on Sunday after work, but I need some space from this guy to get my wits about me. I get butterflies and my head spins when I’m around him. He’s so freaking charming he probably gets girls to drop their panties by the third date and dumps them when the thrill of the chase is over. Well, I’m not going to be the dumpee, I’m usually the dumper.

I return his text the same day, trying to be polite, but less personal than talking on the phone, buying myself more time. I tell him I need to check my schedule first and I’ll get back with him in a day or two. I should write this guy off altogether. My emotions are out of control when I’m around him. He’s a human scrambler, creating static in my clear head. My feelings are now controlling my thoughts and driving my actions. I’m used to guys helping numb me, distract me, but Donovan is stirring something deep within me.

Grabbing my exercise clothes out of the five-drawer upright dresser, I skim the pants on and pull the workout T-shirt over my head. I’ve been kickboxing by Danielle’s work for a couple years now, but I got into the class more this last summer. I go at least three times each week. This is my time to be alone, to take a break from the everyday and let all my energy out. Exercise probably saved me from doing something I regretted while living at my parents, giving me an outlet for my anger and frustration. When I leave my workouts I’m relaxed and calm, an empty vessel ready to be refilled.

While walking to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle, I hear my cell phone ring back in my room. I let the message go to voice mail and listen while I lace up my shoes. It’s a message from Cruz. “Hey, Kenna. I’m thinking of taking a ride up to Malibu. If you’re free or interested, give me a call?”

Jeez, Cruz hasn’t called since the end of summer. He was in my English class during my last semester and started flirting with me. This was after I stopped seeing Greg, so I was open to dating other guys. I wasn’t monogamous with Greg, but I wasn’t looking to date anyone else while I was with him.

We went on a few dates over the summer after my senior year ended, nothing consistent or steady. He continues to call at random times and we get together for a movie or dinner, making out a little, but nothing more—a perfect boy toy.

Cruz is gorgeous with sandy-colored hair, bright blue eyes, and the most adorable smile. He is more than cute—he is hot. Aware that he exudes sex appeal, Cruz is overconfident in his skin and knows how to maneuver around girls—the epitome of the bad boy.

He is exactly what I need right now to take my mind off Donovan, simple, easy, with no strings attached—the perfect diversion from all this chaos in my head. I’m always in control of my emotions with Cruz. The understanding between us is fun times only without expectations on either end or undue pressures for more. We are like friends with partial benefits.

I decide to call him back. He picks up on the second ring. “Cruz,” he says.

“Hey, Cruz, it’s Kenna. I got your message. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you for like forever,” I say, pacing around, straightening up my room.

“Yeah. I did a study abroad program last semester and just got back. I’ve been thinking of you. I want to see you. Are you free today?”

“Well, I have plans this evening, and I was just about to go to the gym. Where are you going in Malibu?”
I may blow off the gym for a ride up the coast.

“Nowhere specific,” he answers. “It’s just a nice day and I felt like taking a ride. I’d like to see you. Do you want to come with?”

I wouldn’t mind wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my body against his back while riding up PCH. A little taste of bad-boy Cruz is what I need to cure this affliction Donovan has given me. “Sure. But I have to be back in a couple hours. Okay?”

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen,” he says, ending the call.

Excited about the prospect, I hurry to the bathroom and fix my hair and brush my teeth. Cruz drives a bright red motorcycle. He’ll bring me a helmet to wear for the ride, so I pull my ponytail out and weave a quick French braid down my back. This is something I didn’t do last time and the ends of my hair were in knots for days.

I’m practically skipping to the door at the ring of the bell, and I swing it open when I see it’s Cruz. “Hey, you.” I bound forward, giving him a big hug. “Long time no see.”

“I know,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’ve missed you.” He’s even better looking than I remember. He looks more buff since the last time. “Ready to go?” he asks, grasping my hand as we walk out the door.

“Yeah, I’m ready but should I change or is this okay to wear on the bike?” I motion to my short black exercise pants.

“No, that’s fine, but you may want to take a sweatshirt. It may get cooler where we’re going.” He points to the black sweatshirt lying across the seat of his bike with his helmet on top.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I walk to my room to grab a sweatshirt from the dresser, and walk back to Cruz. “I’m ready if you are.” We head out the door and on to his motorcycle.

The day is perfect for this sort of ride. A typical February in southern California with Santa Ana winds blowing to the west and mild temperatures. This was a good idea. I’m glad Cruz called. We don’t share that unexplained push-pull like with Donovan, and he can’t see right into me and all my secrets. We are just two bodies sharing time and space, nothing more.

I squeeze Cruz tightly the entire trip up the coast. With no idea where he’s taking me, I’m literally going along for the ride. I recognize Pepperdine University when we get closer and he turns up the road, driving up to the top. Cruz pulls into a parking space by a hotel or office building and cuts the engine. The view is beautiful from up here, probably one of the highest bluffs in Malibu.

“This way.” Cruz motions with his palm up, calling my hand to his, and guiding me to a landscaped overlook with a man-made tranquility water display. He leads me to a bench next to a reflection pool and sits down, pulling me with him. The panoramic view across the Pacific is spectacular. The vista spans from Dana Point in the south to Zuma Beach in the north. The cloudless sky is mirrored on the water, merging the two blues together at the horizon. At this height I can only see the great expanse of ocean and sky.