Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
ALEX
“ I think you should both stay here tonight,” I say. “I’ve got two spare rooms, so you’ll be comfortable.”
Catelina has taken Elliot back to bed, and now Tori, her mother, and I are in the living room. I’ve boarded up the window and given my statement to the police, who have promised to look into it. But one of them mentioned something about ‘kids in the neighborhood,’ which doesn’t sound promising.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” Monica asks.
“Positive,” I tell her. “Who knows what the freak has got planned? That’s why I’m beefing up security. I’ve already called an ex-patient of mine with links to law enforcement. He’s suggested a private security agency. By the morning, I’ll have full surveillance and security. For all of us.”
Tori gasps. “Isn’t that going to cost?—”
I sit down next to her, taking her hands. I know I should try to be more relaxed with her mother around, but her Valentine's poetry performance tugged at my heart, and now this vandalism has set my nerves ablaze.
“Don’t worry about the cost. Don’t even mention it. Your safety is all that matters. It’s the only thing, understand? I’m hiring three details: Elliot, you, Tori, and you, Monica. Just until this is over.”
“Thank you,” Tori murmurs. “But what about you?” she exclaims after a moment.
“I can take care of myself.” When Monica yawns, I stand. “Let me show you to your room, Monica.”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Alex.”
“It’s no trouble.”
I lead her through the house. At the bedroom door, Monica says, “You’re the best Valentine my daughter could’ve asked for. Just be patient with her, please?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I return to the living room, Tori is pacing.
“Hey, slow down,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not that. I mean, it is. But there’s something else, something I need to confess.”
“Okay…”
“It seems silly. It is silly.”
“Try me.”
“I’m just going to say it so we can move on. I mean, if you still want to after you learn how crazy I am.”
“You’re not?—”
“I thought Elliot was fake,” she blurts out.
“Huh?”
“There was a part of me – and not a small one – that thought you might’ve made up Elliot and what happened with his mom and your brother.” She says breathlessly. “I thought maybe you were tricking me. Trying to get me into bed. And then, last night, when I told you I was a virgin, you looked so mad…”
“Mad?” I say, dumbfounded. “I was trying to hold myself back.”
I grab her hips, feeling her curviness through the denim.
“I was trying to stop myself from tearing off your clothes, from kissing every voluptuous inch of your body. Do you think it made me want you less ? It made me want you more, baby because you’ll be my one. My only.”
When I kiss her, she sinks into it, wrapping her arms around me, her body grinding against mine. But then she stops herself.
“But what about my, you know…”
“Craziness?” I say teasingly.
“Yeah.”
“You’re a complex, tortured person… you’re a poet . I can’t blame you for that. And hell, you saw Elliot. You know he’s real. If anything, it just shows how much you care.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not so sure. Maybe it shows that there’s this broken thing inside me that knows I have to sabotage anything good because it scares the hell out of me.”
“You can be scared all you want,” I say earnestly. “That doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”
“What if I’m never as certain as you?” she whispers. “What if I’m always caught in the middle?”
That stings. But I’m not going to let it show. The last thing she needs is more pressure.
“It’s been a long night,” I say. “I think you should try to get some rest. Tomorrow, with the security, you’ll be safe, at least.”
She places her hand over my heart. “Why don’t you have pictures of Elliot on your phone or any photos on the walls here?”
“It’s… complicated,” I murmur. “And like I said, it’s been a long night.”
When I turn away, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward her. She pulls herself in for a kiss. I’m stunned by the sudden passion.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she says.
“Don’t sweat it.”
She arches an eyebrow, magnificently sassy. “Now, who’s keeping it casual, huh?”
I take her hand, leading her to the second spare room. Even now, my body thrums hotly, begging me to drag her into the bedroom, strip off her clothes, and reveal the gorgeous gradations of her sumptuous body.
In the bedroom, I slide my hand to the small of her back, feeling her tempting heat through her clothes. She smiles and looks around the room. “Simple, but it looks comfortable.”
I smirk, leaning in for a kiss. She makes a soft gasping noise that makes me wonder if I’m pushing things too hard after all the mayhem with Damien.
Plus, she thought I made up Elliot and the crash. Maybe I should be angry about that. I wonder if I should be, but holding a grudge against her feels as impossible as hunting down Cupid and confiscating his arrows.
She puts her hands on my chest. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to.”
I sink my hands into her waist. I’ll never get tired of greedily caressing her curviness, feeling her full body, her breasts pressing against me when I pull her close. She moans through the tightness of our mouths, sinking her fingernails into my neck, standing on her tiptoes so she can push against me with more firmness.
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” I groan, pushing her toward the bed.
“Alex, the door,” she whispers urgently.
I let her go with reluctance, then turn to close the door. But when I reach the threshold, she says, “Sorry. I think I just want to get some sleep. Is that okay?”
“You don’t have to ask,” I tell her, striding from the room and closing her door behind me.
I walk around the house, looking at the beach and the front of the property. So far, there’s nothing strange, but I know I won’t be getting much rest tonight. Some motherfucker attacked my home. Sure, it could be a coincidence, and some neighborhood kids are playing games like the cops suggested.
Or it could be Damien Kent and his father—criminals with a sick link to my woman and her family.
I sit on the front porch, scanning the road, getting ready for violence if it comes to that.
Tori: You didn’t have to storm out, meanie.
I smirk at her text. It’s always easier for us to communicate like this without the sexual simmering temptation of being face-to-face or body-to-body.
Alex: If I hadn’t left quickly, I wouldn’t have left at all. I would have turned into an animal, my virgin Valentine. Maybe you would’ve told me you don’t want it. You want to slow down. But when I started touching you, your moans would’ve told a different story.
After sending the text, I glance at the street again then type some more.
Alex: But now that I’ve left you, I can think just a tiny bit clearer. I don’t want you to feel your performance has been lost in tonight's mayhem. You were excellent, Tori. Powerful. Impactful.
I almost want Damien and his father or his goons to appear so I can end this now. I don’t want to live with their shadow hanging over us. I want us to be free to begin.
Begin what, exactly? I’m being upfront about looking for my one. She’s being upfront about not being interested in anything serious. I’m fighting for a life I probably won’t ever have.
Tori: Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me. I’ve been worried about people I know seeing my performances for so long. Also, I kind of like that nickname. ‘Virgin Valentine.’ You need to be careful. What if I like it so much that I never want it to change?
Alex: I could be a gentleman and say I’d wait for you. But the truth is, I’d make you tingle and moan in other ways. I’d caress your flawless body, obsess over your curves, kiss your neediness, and massage your wetness until you were sizzling and couldn’t take it anymore. By then, my sweet virgin Valentine, you’d be begging to throw the nickname away.
Tori: You need to stop. I’m not saying I want you to, but getting any sleep at all is going to be impossible if you carry on.
Alex: Maybe you need to softly stroke your body for me to relieve some tension.
Tori: Or maybe I want to wait for the real thing.
My body thrums in response. Her words light me up. All these years I spent wondering if I’d ever meet a woman who would make me feel this alive, then fate threw us together.
Valentine’s. Fate. Coincidence.
Whatever it was, I know one thing. She belongs to me, even if she doesn’t want to accept it. Yet.
Tori: What I really want is to ask you something. But I don’t think you want to talk about it.
Alex: Try me.
She takes a while to respond. I pace the porch, feeling restless, opening and closing one hand into a fist. I want them to appear, the cowards. Bricks, knives, guns, whatever they want to bring. Do they seriously think I’ll ever let anybody hurt my boy, my woman, my family?
My head rushes. I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re a long way off being a family.
My phone buzzes.
Tori: I asked you earlier, but you seemed awkward about it. Please tell me to back off if I’m crossing the line, but why no photos of Elliot? On your phone, on your socials, on the walls?
I sigh, dropping back into the seat and tapping my foot.
Alex: I could say that I’ve been absentminded. I’ve been busy with work. I’m not somebody who takes a lot of photos anyway. That would all be true, but there’s something else, and I hate myself for it.
Tori: You can tell me .
I’m not sure I can. It’s not like I’ve been a bad guardian. It’s not as if, after his parents passed, I abandoned Elliot. But there’s still some complexity there.
Alex: Sometimes, when I look at that bright, intelligent, enthusiastic boy, I see my brother. I see my ex. I see what they did to me. And the fucked up thing about it is, beautiful; I didn’t care half as much about Lena after three years as I cared about you after three hours.
I keep typing, my breath coming fast, bottled-up emotions pulsing out of me.
Alex: I’ve tried my best to be close with Elliot, but sometimes, it’s like I’m distancing myself from him as some warped defense mechanism. It feels automatic. I can’t call it subconscious because I know I’m doing it. But it feels like instinct.
Tori: You’re protecting yourself from being hurt again. You were burned before by your brother, by somebody Elliot reminds you of. You’re afraid if you let yourself care about Elliot, he’ll let you down, too.
Alex: But that’s not fair to project onto a kid.
Tori: No, it’s not.
My virgin texts with brutal honesty, challenging me to do better, be better.
Tori: You need to be there for him, Alex. You’ve already given him more than most kids could dream of with this wonderful home, a nanny, a bright future. But trust me. Even though my parents argued every night, I still wish my dad was here.
Alex: Maybe I need somebody with a poetic eye to take some photos.
Tori: I’d be happy to do that. Elliot seems like a good kid.
Alex: Even if he’s imaginary?
Tori: LOL. I’m glad you can joke about that. I put myself through the wringer, thinking you made him up. I honestly believed it. But maybe my friends are right. Maybe I was just trying to avoid how I really feel.
Alex: And how do you really feel?
She doesn’t reply straight away. I know how she feels. I experience it when we kiss and hold each other. I’m sure I can even feel it through her messages.
She feels exactly like I do—like Valentine’s Day did something to us, changed us, even if it makes us crazy.
Tori: I feel like a girl who needs some sleep.
That’s a cop-out, but I decide not to press the issue. I don’t want to pressure her.
We’re way past casual, but I could lose her forever if I push too hard.