23. Georgia
To say that today drained me would be an understatement—it killed me.
You would think that Valentine’s Day would be the least stressful holiday other than Groundhog Day, but boy, are you mistaken.
After we celebrated the holiday with Denver and the guys, everyone went their separate ways. The boys have a game tonight, Delilah has dance, and I have deadlines to make.
Derek is the most understanding man in the world. Instead of being upset that I couldn’t make tonight’s game, he kissed my temple, made sure I had a late lunch prepared, wished me good luck, and then went to the arena.
There wasn’t an ounce of hostility or anger from him.
Stretching my neck, I sigh as my faux glasses fall down the bridge of my nose.
I’ve been staring at the same sketch of a men’s three-piece suit for the past forty-five minutes. Something about the waistcoat is off, but I haven’t been able to place what…
The dinging of my phone pulls me away from the sketch momentarily, only to increase my stress tenfold.
She Monster
Your father wants to see you after your graduation. The wedding will be in June, so make sure to get your flight soon.
Rolling my eyes, I toss the phone back onto the couch next to me.
I can only take one source of stress at a time.
Getting up from the Georgia-sized hole on the couch, I go into the kitchen and smile at the sight of the dozen strawberry cupcakes strategically placed in the cupcake holder on the island.
Taking two cupcakes out of the tin, I make my way back to the couch and plop down in my hole.
This concept shouldn’t be as stressful as it is. I’ve had my clothes in the SFU Spring Fashion Show for the past three years—yet coming into my senior show, it feels like the stakes are higher than ever before.
What would Eden Marlowe do?
Sighing, I take a bite of my smallest cupcake and turn the TV to Gossip Girl, only to turn it back off when Dan starts acting like an asshole.
I hate men, but more importantly, I hate when mediocre guys—no hate to Penn Bagdley. I love him—but I do hate it when average men date phenomenal women and suddenly become these high and mighty entities.
The audacity of the male species is something I believe scientists should do a deep and thorough study on.
Placing a cupcake on my stomach, I scroll through my page on Derek’s Netflix account, and pausing on Gilmore Girls, I sigh.
Do I want to watch the downfall of one of my favorite characters again, or will I choose peace?
Peace, it is.
The sketchbook on the table seemingly winks at me as the thought crosses my mind. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. It takes me no time to come up with concepts and to sketch new work, but this line is taking everything from me.
Running a hand through my hair, I put my faux glasses on the table and turn on Frozen. Maybe the cold won’t bother me as much as this damn sketchbook is.
The front door opens around forty minutes into the second movie. I’m bent over my sketchbook, angrily sketching out a detailed cravat when the scent of Derek’s cologne hits me.
He doesn’t say anything as he takes the sketchbook from my hands, placing it down on the table. He moves quietly and stealthily as he takes a seat next to me, picks my legs up, and places them on his lap.
“I’m going to start…” I trail off, rolling my bottom lip when our eyes lock. He tilts his head, his eyes studying me as a small smile graces his face.
“Let it rip.”
Taking a deep breath—and another bite of my fourth cupcake, I nod at him.
“Where the hell do I begin? Anna? I love her, but how did she not realize that Hans was playing her? Love Kristoff—he’s one of my ‘hear me out characters’ and—”
Derek gives me a look as if to say, “Really?” and I falter.
It’s something in the way his eyes zero in on me—the way he gives me his full attention, that causes me to stop speaking and stare at him.
He massages my feet, his hands kneading away my problems and massaging love back into me, and I sigh as he hits a spot on my foot.
“I don’t want to be too much…”
Derek purses his lips at me and raises a brow. “You’re never too much for me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Everything.
Nothing.
I feel like there’s so much happening in my brain, but I can never find the right words to say what I feel.
“I’m tanking my show, and the show isn’t even for another two months. I’ve eaten four cupcakes in two hours, and I’m pretty sure I’ve developed a crush on a cartoon character in the span of that time…” I chuckle depreciatively as Derek snorts lightly.
“Why do you think you’re tanking the show? I’ve seen your designs—you’re a star, darlin’,” he says, and my heart skips a beat.
Something about the way he says that nickname awakens something in my soul. It’s a soft nickname, hell, it could be a one-off—something that he calls everyone. But when he says it to me, I feel special.
Is that odd? The way his words affect me should be illegal, but then he goes and adds his affection to the mix as well.
And fuck…
He’s spent six hours at the arena, played a long, brutal game on the ice, cooked for me, and is now sitting on the couch, massaging my feet, trying to see what’s been wrong with me lately.
And here I am talking about my issues.
Fuck…
I feel skewed.
Actually, I shouldn’t feel anything—we’re friends… friends that have kissed… a few times.
Nothing more, nothing less.
But do friends look at one another the way Derek looks at me? I noticed it earlier in the room: the soft smile… his warm eyes.
Sucking in a breath, I look at the paused television, then back to the man next to me.
His wavy hair is damp against his forehead, a sign of his shower after tonight’s game. He’s replaced his contacts with a pair of blue glasses, matching the navy-blue sweater he’s wearing—I love it when he does that.
Derek's sleeves are rolled up, showing off the tattoos he has covering his arms, but what truly gets me is his goatee.
Don’t shoot the messenger, but goatees are fucking hot—especially when the guy who has one is hot as well.
The picture of Derek Perez, sitting on his couch, man spreading while massaging my feet, is a sight to see.
I pity the people who have only ever seen the serious man, the father, and Division I athlete versions of him, because this Derek right here is something.
“Is there something on my face, or am I just that good looking to you?” He grins.
Rolling my eyes, I swat at his hand on my foot. “Shut up…”
Derek chuckles as my play hits land on his abs. When I get closer to his neck in an attempt to tickle him, he grabs my hand.
“Tell me how you really feel. What’s been going on in that brain of yours, Georgia Adams?”
The eye contact, the undivided attention, it all has my stomach feeling something it’s never felt before, and before I can stop myself, I open my mouth.
“I feel like I’m fucking everything up because it’s never taken me this long to do anything.
I can sew a dress in my sleep. Creating new designs happens instantly.
But this? It’s taken me ages to do something so simple as sketching a suit.
No wonder ASTERI didn’t pick me…” I say with a sigh as Derek slides in a bit closer, my thighs now across his lap as his hand moves to my hair.
We sit in silence with him massaging my scalp and me thinking with my head on his shoulder, but it doesn’t take long for him to speak up.
“How can I help?”
I lift my head from his shoulder and turn to face him.
Those four words.
I’ve never known that four words could mean so much to me until he spoke them aloud.
“I just need to relieve myself of this stress…” I trail off as my eyes track to his lips. The memory of us in the fabric store three days ago flashes in my mind as Derek gives me a playful smirk.
Tilting my chin up, he leans in a smidge closer. “I know the perfect way for you to relieve some stress.”
My body awakens at the deep timber of his voice and the dirty connotation hidden in it.
“I’m open to all of them…”
He grins, his eyes trailing from my eyes to my lips, then back up. He licks his lips before biting the bottom one. I gulp, my body awakening as his glasses slip down the bridge of his long nose a bit.
“Like what you see?” I taunt, using his words against him as he lets out a dark chuckle.
Derek pulls my body onto his lap in an instant and kisses the tips of his fingers, “Love it. Perfection.”
A giggle falls from my lips as one of his waves falls onto his forehead, and without thought, I smooth it back with the rest of his hair. I suck in a breath, my body tingling, as his eyes close from my touch.
When he opens his eyes back up, they’re darker than before.
“I never got to finish massaging you.”
“Oh! You can finish—”
Before the sentence can hit the air, I’m being hoisted up and carried to the bedroom. I wrap my arms around Derek’s neck, giggling as he plops me down on the bed, flipping me in an instant.
He’s quiet and stealthy as he lifts my shirt lightly, exposing the bare, braless skin of my back. I suck in a breath of air as a liquid is dripped on my back, followed by the feel of his cold and callused hands.
A moan escapes my lips when Derek's hands move to my lower back, circling and massaging the tender skin.
“Fuck…” I curse lowly when he reaches a spot at the top of my back near my shoulder blade before slicing a line down my back.
Derek is quiet as he works, and it’s so quiet that a part of me forgets it’s him massaging me instead of one of those handheld machines. I’m slowly falling asleep, allowing the feel of his hands to work me over when he clears his throat.
“Georgia?” he says my name cautiously, moving back down to my lower back, slowly moving his hands to my butt as I shift.
“Mhm?”
Derek pauses as if to think over his words before chuckling softly. “I really want to fuck you. God, you don’t know how badly I want to have sex with you right now, but I think there’s something you should know.”
I freeze, my body stiffening as I take in his words. You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it is in the apartment.
“Wha… What happened?”
I try to turn my face to look up at him, but there’s no point because in an instant his hands are back on me, massaging my tense shoulders.
“I’m not saying we need to tonight, but I want us to both be comfortable when we do… I… um..”
I have a feeling he’s scratching the back of his neck. It's something I’ve seen him do when he’s anxious.
“Well… I can’t necessarily ask if you’re a virgin, considering…”
He chuckles. “I have a daughter.”
“Right.” I pause, thinking over my next words as dread washes over me. “Did something happen to you?”
Derek hesitates, pausing his massage momentarily before he sighs.
“I haven’t had sex since Delilah was born.”
Delilah’s four.
If he hasn’t had sex since she was born, then that means…
“The first and only person I’ve ever had sex with was Delilah’s mother, Rosemary.”