23. Rose
23
ROSE
It’s a beautiful, sunny day with some scattered clouds. I sit in Zander’s Cadillac as a woman’s soulful voice filters through the speakers. I glance at the man beside me, who’s smiling and humming along with the music.
This is the first time I’m seeing him out of his usual three-piece suit and tie. Even last night, he slept in his dress shirt and suit pants. But today, he’s wearing a casual button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and crisp blue jeans. His eyes, hidden behind his aviator glasses, and his hair not set as usual cheat his CEO image. My fingers hesitantly glide through his soft locks. I’ve dreamt about this since our first meeting in the café but never knew this small action could be so sensual.
“Marr?” Zander’s hoarse voice halts my movements. My fingers are still lost in his obsidian bunch when he looks at me with fierce eyes. His gaze tears from the road to me before he pulls back and shifts in his seat. “You can’t do that to me while I’m driving.”
I have no idea what he means.
What am I doing?
He’s the one who’s making me a crazy bag of emotions .
After long moments of silence, I comment, “Your hair is softer than it was last night.”
“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. “I might have stolen some of your ocean secret product.”
“You’re welcome to use it anytime.” I giggle; I can’t hide my smile around him.
“If this is an invitation to spend more nights in your bedroom, we need to meet Kristy’s guy.”
This isn’t the first time Zander’s insinuated that Kristy is seeing someone, but I’m not sure. Since I’ve known her, Kristy has never been the one to hide her dating life. But come to think of it, I haven’t heard any of her recent dating stories.
“Do you think she’s seeing someone?” I ask, now seriously considering the idea.
“I have a strong feeling her guy is from Elixir,” Zander says casually.
“What?” I look at him in surprise. Why wouldn’t she tell me?
“She has very sneakily brought up the non-fraternization policy annulment thrice in our discussions,” Zander explains, raising an eyebrow. “I want to meet the guy and make sure he and I don’t end up at your place on the same evening with a sleepover bag. I have no desire to have any other man hear my girl’s screams of ecstasy.”
“Screams of ecstasy?” My face heats at his words. He might be exaggerating, claiming last night’s moans to be screams, but I’m surely not a quiet person.
“And tonight, I plan to hear them all night long. Be prepared,” he says as if in a warning.
Crab. Am I prepared?
We walk hand in hand along the shoreline of Cherry Lake. It’s a vital part of Cherrywood, giving the town not only its name but also attracting several tourists every year, especially during spring. This season, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the lake turns a beautiful pink.
Mountains surround the lake on three sides, and one can always spot those obnoxious seagulls flying over the shore, ready to snatch everything from your hands. I’ve learned my lesson about not eating a snack at the shore the hard way. But even then, I always love this place, and walking here today with Zander makes it more special.
As we traipse toward the park, the crowd thickens—kids with young parents, older couples walking hand in hand, and teenage girls giggling when they see Zander. I look at him, lost in his own world, oblivious to the effect he’s having on women and girls alike.
We soon reach the park entrance, and above the iron gate is a gigantic yellow banner with red letters saying Three-Day Carnival. Fair-style tents cover the entire park.
“There’s some big party going on here.” Zander looks around.
I hesitate at the entrance, watching the serene park that’s turned into a fiesta. This isn’t a surprise, as once a month, there’s usually some event going on in the park. But what gets to me is that, today, I didn’t check the town’s website. Zander and his words distracted me, somehow bringing my guard down, making me less paranoid. His presence and its effects are much stronger than any medication or therapy I’ve been subjected to.
“I guess it’s because of the long weekend,” I mumble, glancing around nervously.
“What is it, Marr?” He holds my cold hands and pulls me to the side, out of the way of the crowd. “We can go somewhere else.”
His warm fingers gently stroke the back of my hands, comforting me, bringing my escalating heartbeat down.
“Am I so predictable? ”
He smiles at my question. “I spend an unhealthy amount of time following you, thinking about you, looking at you, couch girl.”
My lips pull up in a smile, and when his thumb grazes my lips and my eyes flutter close, I forget that we’re in a public place, surrounded by strangers.
That has never happened to me before.
“Let’s go inside.” Nervous and curious to know what else Zander can make me forget, I take a step forward.
“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”
Babe .
Zander has used so many endearments in the past twenty-four hours—baby, babe, sweetheart—and every time he uses one, my heart flutters with excitement.
As we enter the park, an enchanting carnival scene welcomes us. There are colorful stalls with an assortment of games, women selling homemade baked goods, and artists with crafts.
My grip on Zander’s hand tightens. I look around at the color, life, laughter—everything I want and miss in my life.
But maybe not for much longer , my heart softly murmurs.
“We can leave if this makes you anxious.”
My heart tightens at Zander’s concerned voice.
“It does a little… or maybe too much. But I’m also liking it. There is so much… life and happiness. Things I’ve always missed.” My hands curl around my wrists, and I resist the need to pull on my cuffs. “It’s also helpful that most people are too busy with themselves… to notice me.”
Before I can dwell more, Zander pulls me in his arms and hugs me tight. I’m sure he’s feeling sorry for my childhood, but I don’t want to think about our past. Today is a happy day, and I want to keep it that way.
“We’ve found a place to spend the day, and at night, we go by your plan.” I pull him by his hand.
“Why, Ms. Marlin, are you impatient for the night? ”
His words make my heart jump a little. My cheeks flush and the feverish feeling flows through me like hot lava.
He raises an eyebrow. “Who would have thought after just one dose of my magic fingers, you’d be coming back for more. Wait till you get the real drug, baby.”
“Zander!” His heated voice fills me with an unbridled excitement for that real drug.
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want it.”
“I’d have never guessed the CEO of Elixir could be so rowdy.”
“I’ll show you rowdy in a few hours,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver all over.
A loud wail of a child who just dropped his ice cream breaks our trance, and we walk further into the park.
Zander and I roam around hand in hand before settling on a bench. When I’m looking away at the acrobats performing a show, I hear a clicking sound. Zander takes another picture of me when I turn to him and then shows me his cell phone.
He made me his wallpaper.
“Rose. Rose,” someone yells through the thick crowd. I turn to find Clementine Hawthorne scurrying toward us.
My muscles relax, and the corner of my mouth quirks up at the sight of one of my few friends inCherrywood. I wave at her.
“Who is this handsome man?” She cocks an eyebrow at Zander, making me chuckle. I haven’t met anyone more candid than Clem.
“This is Zander. Zander is the CEO of Elixir Inc.”
The way Zander’s arm rest over my shoulders, it’s a no-brainer that he is more than my boss, but to make it perfectly clear, he adds, “And her boyfriend.”
“Hello, boss boyfriend. Do you have any brothers even half as handsome as you?”
Zander chuckles, and I tell him, “Clementine is Oscar’s youngest sister.”
Zander nods. “Your brother often speaks about his family. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Make sure you check out my latest stuff.” Clementine nods toward a tent with her name embroidered in silky thread.
We enter her stall followed by a few other customers. I’m once again reminded about Clementine’s talent as an independent fashion designer. Her designs are unique and heart touching.
I peruse through the beautiful metal accessory collection and notice some interesting car mirror decorations. One that stands out is a steel butterfly with the words “ Remembering you” engraved on its wings.
I take it with me to the cash register where Zander is picking up a small paper bag. I wonder what he bought. I pay Clem and promise her that Kristy and I will visit her soon.
“I bought you something.” It’s a silly gift, but I want him to have a memory of today.
“You did? What is it?” The smile that lights up his face makes me want to give him a piece of my heart along with this ornament.
I place the metal butterfly on his palm. Zander twirls it between his fingers and smiles. “It’s very thoughtful, Marr. It will remind me of today, of us.” He places a kiss on my lips.
I realize that Zander is one of those guys who doesn’t shy away from displays of his affection. He doesn’t care where we are or who’s watching, and I like that about him. Whenever he’s pulling me closer or placing a peck on my cheeks, I get those butterflies in my stomach that poets and writers rave about. I feel the excitement and anticipation of more instead of my usual fear of rejection. With every passing moment, I’m falling more and more for this amazing man. The affection in his eyes and the tenderness of his touch are gradually taking down the rigid walls of my insecurities and fears.
“What is it, baby?” He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Nothing.” I clear my throat. It’s too soon, Rose. Don’t make a bigger deal out of this than what it is. “I just remembered my favorite car charm, which I misplaced somewhere.”
“How did you lose it?” he asks in a concerned voice as we continue our walk, looking around at the festivities.
“It got misplaced while my car was with the mechanic.” I shrug. “I bought it six years back in a garage sale, even before I had a car, in hope of having one someday.” I smile at my own stupidity.
He smiles back. “It must have been something special. Tell me about it.”
I remember the beautiful piece that I’d found while returning to my dorm room after hearing an applied physics guest lecture at a hotel outside the university’s campus. I was walking down the streets of a residential area when my eyes caught the pink velvet band with several roses around it. I had thought it was a Christmas ornament. By the time the old lady from the garage sale told me what it really was, I had already decided on the purchase, car or no car.
Lost in my memories as I reminisce about those days, it takes me a while to notice Zander has stopped walking.
“Zander, what’s the matter?” Turning around, I find him taking something out from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Oh my god! How? Where?” I run and cover the few steps between us. My lost charm dangles from his fingers. There’s no question it’s mine, because one rose is bigger than the others.
“Fuck, I can’t believe this,” he mutters and releases a heavy breath. “I rented a car on my first visit to Cherrywood from the Douglas garage. I guess that’s where your car was for repair. ”
I nod. But it was months ago.
What are the odds of my car charm ending up in his rental?
“I found this in that car. Since that day, I’ve tried to get rid of it, but hell, it keeps coming back to me. The room service guys keep bringing it back to my hotel room, and a couple of times, I’ve found it in my office bag. Today, I found it in the trunk of my car. Please take it and relieve me from the guard duty of your prized possession.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m too stunned by the coincidence. Quickly, I slip it into my purse.“You really hate the flower, don’t you?” I ask as we resume walking.
“You have no idea.” He squeezes my hand tight, and I know that is all I’m going to get from him.
Before I can prod more on Zander’s reaction, he deflects my attention.
“What will you have? I’m kinda hungry and the turkey sandwich looks tempting.” He points to the food truck and rubs his stomach with a huge grin.
My breath hitches as I stare at his beautiful face. The afternoon sun behind his head is forging a golden aura around him. The finger under his lip as he looks at the food truck thoughtfully makes my heartbeat wild. Memories of how his fingers played with me last night revisit, and I have to close my eyes to compose myself and dismiss the burning sensation.
Photographic memory sucks.
When I open my eyes again, Zander is staring at me with a knowing expression. My cheeks burn and I look away. He tugs me closer and whispers in my ear, “If you continue looking at me like that, I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and take you behind those scanty bushes.”
I suck in a breath. I know he would never be so reckless. Zander is one of the most sensible people, yet I can’t control the shiver that passes through my body at his touch and his words. I close my eyes, taking everything in. I tell myself that this is real, not a dream.
“We need to move, baby, or else we’ll scare that little girl away,” he says in a gruff voice.
It takes me a moment to comprehend his words, and I turn in his arms to find a young girl watching us while licking her ice cream like we’re a part of some show at the carnival. The confusion on her face makes me chuckle, and I drag Zander away before we really scare her.
I take a seat on one of the benches as Zander grabs us food. He places a salad bowl and lemon soda in front of me before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“A question, if you don’t mind?” he asks.
I nod, biting through the soft goat cheese.
“Why a precise breakfast, but not a precise lunch and dinner?” He nods toward the salad bowl.
“Precise lunch and dinner didn’t work out while I was at college.” I smile.
“Explain.”
I’m still getting used to the idea of someone being interested in me, in little things about me, like my lunch and dinner choices.
“We had fixed menus at Kindred Hearts. I didn’t know any other way, so the first day out of the orphanage, I hung the same menus in my dorm room. But soon I learned that the university cafeteria didn’t have most of the items on my menu. I thought about cooking in my room, but it turns out I’m a horrible cook. I spent a big portion of my scholarship money in the first month paying restaurants extra to deliver my special requests. I knew I had to learn to adapt. Gradually, and for one meal a week, I started experimenting with the cafeteria food.”
I don’t tell him how many times those days I went to bed with an empty stomach because I couldn’t touch the new food. It took years before I learned to eat lunch and dinner on a whim—anything, anywhere.
“But you kept the breakfast menu?”
I nod. “I noticed that the cafeteria served similar breakfast options. I prepared a menu out of those, and some days I ate good old PB I bite his lower lip.
“Ooh…easy baby,” he whispers.
“S-sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Just be gentle with your man.” He squats before me while I’m sitting on the bed. In this position, we are eye to eye. This sexy Zander is a sight to behold, and I want to get lost in his piercing gaze and stay like this forever, but he gets up and pulls me with him.
He walks me to the bathroom. “I don’t want you to get cold.” He kisses my forehead before handing me a purple Hers bathrobe.
I take the fastest shower in human history. Under the robe, I put on the fresh pair of undergarments that I slid into my handbag along with a toothbrush this morning. When I step out of the bathroom, I find Zander looking at his phone. With his shoulders bunched forward, I see some ink on his back.
“Can I see your tattoos?”
He looks up, smiles, and turns around, giving me a good view of his back.
Holy ship!
I’m stuck in place, awestruck. With all the touching and kissing, I knew Zander was fit. But this is crazy. It looks like someone chiseled him into perfection. I wonder how much time he spends in the gym to maintain this body .
“How often do you work out?” I whisper in amazement.
“Quite a lot. Like what you see?” He smirks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Hmm.” I think I’ll go brain dead. For someone who had no male attention, this much masculinity in one day feels like a drug overdose.
“Which one you like the most?” He raises an eyebrow, turning around.
Crab, he’s talking about the tattoos. I was so busy crushing over his body that I forgot to pay any attention to the art.
“Can I get another look?” I ask sheepishly.
“Sure, but this time, make sure to see some art and do less of the eye-fucking.”
His back is a myriad of drawings, some vibrant and colorful but some just black. It looks like a picture book, where each image has its own story. There are three boys holding hands. Then a boy is hiding behind a door. In the next, a boy is kneeling on the ground, his head toward the sky. Is he praying or crying? But what shatters my heart are the rose thorns and stems drawn on his shoulder blades. Wherever the prickles end, there is red blood. It’s so vivid, and for a moment, I believe it’s real blood oozing out of his skin. Below the thorns is a word in block letters.
ALEXZANDER.