Breaking Hearts (B-Boy #2) Read online

  “They don’t really hate me,” he admitted.

  On the verge of tears, I looked at him with doubt. “They don’t?”

  “They all read your article, remember? If anything you portrayed me as a martyr. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  I couldn’t fight the deep frown that worked its way on my face. “So what with all the anger earlier? Why were you basically guilt tripping me?”

  “I felt that you went behind my back. Anybody would be mad.”

  “True,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure if I really agreed.

  He bit his lip before saying what he did next. “And I was angry you ran out on me at the Hall, but I guess that was karma for Club Mal right?”

  “Why were you mad?”

  Ignoring me, he pressed on. “I was angry at the fact that you ended up with a douche like Kurt. Even David was a hundred times better than he was!”

  My frown deepened. “Like you hadn’t ended up with anybody bad either?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Yeah, right…” I crossed my arms and looked away, but he reached out and gently cupped my chin turning me back towards him.

  “After you left, I realized I never wanted to second guess my feelings for anyone again. Though I admit I tried my hand at dating here and there, especially when you know, things happened.”

  I shut my eyes. I knew what ‘things’ meant.

  “I kept hoping it would feel as great as that one crush I had on a sweet girl in college. None of them ever did, and I’d just feel as if I was wasting my time when I rather be practicing. No one lasted more than two dates.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I demanded.

  “Besides the fact that we’re locked in a room and there’s nothing to do to pass the time but talk?” he quipped.

  “We could sleep?” I replied, fighting back a yawn.

  The red splotches that appeared on his cheeks told me he totally took that statement the other direction.

  “Estelle, do you believe in fate?” his voice seemed lower, grave almost.

  “Fate?” I asked dumbly. “No…I mean…I just hate to think that life is planned out for you. What’s the point of free will, right?”

  He nodded his head for a moment and then said something that floored me. “Love is supposed to help people grow, right? Love is not constricting. Love helps people grow together.”

  My eyes were as big as saucers. “Wise words.”

  “Yeah, I read them in a book once. I thought the philosopher was very insightful.”

  “Oh.”

  With a coy grin on his face, he mused, “Maybe whether we knew it or not, we were helping each other grow.”

  “Huh?” I had no idea how this conversation even turned.

  “Think about it. We both worked hard to grow in our careers to somehow get thrown into each other’s paths again.” He turned to me and stared. His body may have not been moving, but it seemed as if he were once again making love to something. It was no longer the air he wooed, it was me.

  “Jacob…”

  “It’s fate, Estelle, and this time I’d be a damned fool if I didn’t take advantage of it this time around.”

  In one graceful move he wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck and pulled my head toward his, planting his lips against mine.

  Now, I’d look back at our first kiss before and despite it being marred by Gemma and David, it was a kiss I’d compare others to. It was on its own pedestal. Yet, no matter how many times I’ve dreamt of his soft lips on mine, the memories did no justice to feeling his skin on mine once again.

  His warm breath bathed my cheekbones, though our noses were pressed against each other in a tangled mess. His upper lip sucked my lower one, heightening its sensitivity. I have no doubt that our kiss probably looked pretty ugly from an outsider’s point of view. Lips mashed, drool slipping from our lips; but isn’t that how the most passionate kisses are?

  Passion isn’t neat. It’s not made up of straight lines and black and white. Passion is like growth. Things aren’t as clear cut as you’d want them to be. You don’t have to be a pushover, but you don’t have to be a bitch. You can be a great dancer, but you don’t have to be lonely, either. Passion is a tangled web and the best things in life are the messiest.

  I gripped onto the back of his shirt as if it were a life preserver because I felt myself slipping…slipping downward. It didn’t matter because I knew he felt the same way.

  His fingers pressed into my waist, traveling up the waistband of my sweater until they rested on the soft skin beneath my belly button. I whimpered slightly as his fingertips caressed the skin, tickling me slightly.

  Déjà vu hit me and I had to consciously remind myself that I was not in Cal U’s dormitory. I did not just break up with my first boyfriend or pseudo-boyfriend. I did not just run into my crush and make out with him while the girl I thought was his girlfriend watched in anger behind us.

  Jacob and I were now adults.

  Though I technically did just break up with yet another boyfriend of mine, the situation was different. The dynamics were vastly on another level.

  Maybe it was fate. God had given us a second chance to put all our childhood nonsense aside. All the bad advice given by friends and self—this was us.

  Our sides were still pressed against the wall by the window and as much as I was enjoying feeling his warmth and tasting him, things were getting a bit uncomfortable. Somehow in a majestic move—seriously, maybe I should have taken up dancing—I reached my leg to the side and somehow pulled the extra rolling desk chair toward us. Jacob must have taken the hint because he quickly backed up into it, sitting and pulling me down with him. In a move that would make any contortionist proud, I somehow placed one leg onto the vinyl handle and the other squeezed outside Jacob’s leg. My butt lowered, semi-resting, on the top of his thighs.

  Our kisses changed intermittently from small pecks to wet sloppiness. It was if we were making up for lost time by covering years’ worth of kisses. From level one of coyness to level five-hundred and sixty-three downright devouring each other.

  Maneuvering my hands so they sat at the bottom hem of his shirt, I ripped it off of him, only pulling myself away from his lips long enough to allow the shirt to come off his head. His thick head of hair stood on end, but its messiness just made him look even hotter.

  Though I knew kissing with your eyes open is a bit on the creepy side, I couldn’t help myself. I had to look down and admire his bare shoulders, arms, and…pulling away, I smirked at the sight of his chest. Anna wasn’t kidding. Jacob shirtless was really a sight to behold.

  The warmth pulled in my center, all the blood rushing down to my sex. The moment Jacob ripped my sweater off, I felt as if I were about to explode.

  Would we take it that far?

  I didn’t know if I wanted to. As turned on as I was, I just wanted to stay in my innocent fantasy. I was worried that at the moment we flew back to reality we’d realize everything about us was wrong.

  Fate’s kicked my ass before. Why wouldn’t it do so again?

  “Estelle,” he breathed into my mouth. Hearing his breathy grunt coupled with my name was like music to my ears.

  Fate wouldn’t kick us in the ass today.

  Chapter 46

  Those romance books had nothing on us.

  Sure we were in the “deep throes of ecstasy” but we never took it further than the occasional groping and sucking.

  Jacob ran his lips down my chest to the tops of my bra; my sweater thrown carelessly to the side. It sat in a crumpled pile on the floor. My skin felt hot and cold at the same time. It was electric, charged by his firm touch.

  “Estelle—”

  “Ahh!” I pushed him away and fell back, landing on the floor. I winced as the pulsing ache began to climb up my ass.

  The office lights had been turned on to their fullest power; the fluorescent light bulbs shining brightly around us. As the bulbs buzzed, awakening, I g
lanced around the room in shock and surprise, throwing a chagrined look at two of my coworkers who remained at the door, gaping at us.

  Charlie, the sports editor, whistled in appreciation. “Guess this is what happens after hours at the office?”

  I scrambled to my feet, covering my chest. Jacob quickly reached down and threw me my sweater, which I hastily pulled over my head. All the while, Kristin, the fashion editor who looked the part, stared at me with distaste. Her wine colored lips curled into a judgmental smirk and her liquid-lined eyes narrowed in disapproval.

  “Guess you didn’t wait too long to get over Kurt,” she mused, scanning Jacob from head to toe, who was now fully dressed. He smoothed out his hair nervously as Kristin shrugged. “Can’t say you didn’t do a great job rebounding.”

  I winced at the word. It was something Jacob never wanted to be and someone he definitely wasn’t.

  Jacob couldn’t wait another second to get out of there. “I have to go,” he said gruffly without so much as a goodbye or even one last look. He stormed past my coworkers, but still had the decency to whisper an, “Excuse me.”

  “Jacob!” I yelled after him.

  Charlie and Kristin stepped aside and motioned after him. “Aren’t you going after him?” Charlie said with a wink. Apparently he was the romantic of the two.

  I paused for a moment before running toward my desk and grabbing my pea coat. I threw it on my back without bothering to put either my arms through their rightful sleeves and ran past them. “Tell, Sully I’m taking a personal day today.”

  ***

  The New York streets were as empty as they were going to be, with only a sprinkling of street vendors setting up their carts and businessmen rushing toward the metro. Curious, I glanced at my watch and noticed it was only six in the morning.

  “Wonder what Charlie and Kristin were doing at the offices so early. Maybe the same thing I was?” I thought wryly. Realistically it wasn’t uncommon for editors to come in at the crack of dawn to meet their deadlines.

  I ran as quickly as I could with my clunky boots, dodging stray pedestrians. “Jacob!”

  I spotted him at the end of the street, shivering slightly. In his hurry to leave my office he had neglected to grab his jacket. My lips turned down in pity as I ran up to him, watching as he rubbed his hands over the thin sleeves on his arms, trying to stay warm.

  “What are you doing, Jake? You’re going to get sick!” I desperately glanced around for an open building we could take refuge in, but alas most were still closed. Sighing, I raised my arm in the air. “Taxi!”

  “What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

  “Getting us a cab. You’ll catch pneumonia out here.”

  “I’m not a child, E.”

  E.

  I felt myself wilt a bit, but tried my best to ignore the feeling. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your hotel.”

  “Don’t you have a job to go to?” he snapped.

  Taken aback, I stuttered just as a yellow cab pulled up at the curb beside us. I was half expecting Jacob to walk away at this point, but to my relief he opened the car door and motioned for me to get in. I obliged and scooted over, giving him room to climb in.

  “Where to?” our Doritos-scented cab driver asked, coughing rather loudly.

  “The Ritz Plaza at 48th street,” Jacob answered, staring out the window. All at once the pangs of regret and sorrow hit me. He was savoring each moment. He really didn’t think he’d come back.

  We rode in silence for a good five minutes before I finally spoke, “I’m sorry about what happened. I had no idea that—”

  “Your coworkers would walk in?” he replied angrily.

  I frowned, taken aback. “Um, yeah.”

  “Actually, it’s a good thing they came in. It could have gone further. That would have been bad.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Why would that be bad?”

  “You have a life here, Estelle. Though I don’t really agree with how you’re going about it, you’re doing well here.”

  “I guess that’s subjective,” I mused through puckered lips.

  “What did we think was going to happen?” He threw his head back and lightly hit it on the vinyl headrest. “We were both just emotionally charged…tired…locked in a room.”

  “So all that crap you were spewing about me being the one to break your no-woman-streak was for nothing?” I snapped angrily. Jacob nervously glanced at our driver, who couldn’t have cared less about our soap opera in his backseat. I rolled my eyes. “Please, this guy has probably seen people shoot up and fuck back here, we’re fine.”

  Jacob’s eyes darted to the side. “And this is why I’m sure what we did was a mistake.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m not from your world, Estelle. I never will be. Our college fantasies are just that—fantasies.”

  The cab pulled up in front of the Ritz and before I could digest what just happened, Jacob thrust a twenty into the driver’s hand and jumped straight out. I gaped at him for a split second before jumping out right after him. I ran to keep up with his long strides.

  “Jacob, what’s the big idea? Why are you so mad all of a sudden? I thought…” My voice trailed off. How was I supposed to find the words to describe everything I felt?

  Jacob remained quiet and opted to take the stairs to his room. I followed right after, neither speaking nor staying fully quiet. Soft whimpers escaped my lips uncontrollably. By the time we made it to his door, Jacob was acting as if I were nothing but a shadow.

  He unlocked his door and walked right in and turned at his waist. “You coming?”

  I gulped. “I didn’t think I was invited.”

  There was a hint of amusement on his curled smirk. “Then why did you follow me up there?”

  “I didn’t really think this one through,” I admitted.

  “Come in.” He stepped aside and motioned toward his hotel room. I raised my shoulders a bit, stiffening as I walked past him, the knowledge of what we just did that morning still playing strongly in my head.

  Jacob walked toward the kitchen area of the room, which looked more like a furnished apartment. It was surprising that Kurt hadn’t kicked him out of what I assumed to be company provided rooms, but considering the pile of luggage stacked in the corner, I’d say his welcome was dwindling.

  “I thought that speaking in private as opposed to an audience of one seedy looking individual may be better.”

  “Private?” I scoffed a bit. “We were locked up in my office all night and you want privacy again?”

  Oh God, I hoped he wanted a specific kind of privacy.

  He pursed his lips. “Estelle, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. Tomorrow you’ll walk back into that office of yours and sit at that desk and write whatever…” His voice trailed off and he sighed. “Where will I be? Back in California trying to make a living in the public school system as a substitute teacher.”

  “I didn’t know you worked as a sub,” I remarked, racking my brain to remember our hours’ long conversation in my office.

  “It’s not full-time,” he clarified. “And it’s not b-boying. It’s a j-o-b, nothing less and nothing more. Either way I’ll be going back to California, back to square one. I don’t know how I expected my life to pan out, but this wasn’t it.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” I pleaded. “I can make this right. I can try to pull strings with my connections—”

  “The connections that hate you,” he asked doubtfully. “No offense, but you even said there are a lot of people who would drop me knowing I was connected with you.”

  He was right. What could I say?

  His top teeth pressed into his bottom lip, raking inward. “It was really great to see you again, E. I think it’s time we part ways once and for all. What we did in the office was a bad idea…old feelings or not, we’re two different people. It didn’t happen in college and it sure as hell won’t happen now.”

  “Jacob�
�” My nose began to prickle. It’d be the first time I cried in years. Front or not, I put on a brave face once I moved to New York. Crying wasn’t part of the package.

  Jacob walked up to me and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Goodbye, E. I promise you, this will be the last time we’ll see each other again.”

  As if an autopilot I walked toward his door, never bothering to turn around. Once I was in the safety of his hallway, which I admit was really bad déjà vu, I came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at the closed door. Almost in a daze, I whispered, “He called me ‘E’…he wasn’t speaking from his heart.”

  Chapter 47

  Six Months Later

  My skin felt slick and sticky at the same time. The summer humidity reared early this year, suffocating with no end in sight. Even staying indoors was not an option as the scent of the “outside” would leave my body smelling weirdly metallic. The incessant body odor of the indoors almost made suffering through the humidity bearable, but not by much.

  I adjusted the strap of my camera and followed my boss, who was incidentally three years younger than I was. As he barked orders of what to shoot and what filters to use, I reminded myself that he was ten times better than Stanley and that I was finally doing something I loved.

  I had found my niche.

  The day I walked out of Jacob’s hotel room I did a lot of self-evaluating. He was right. I did have a life in New York, but nothing I seriously was proud of. Working at NYC Journal made me into somebody I didn’t like. Needless to say I turned into a person I never thought I’d become.

  My career—er, my job—made my soul cry. No joke, the more I thought about it I could feel myself deteriorating.

  Figuring I need to get out of that job and out of the city before another part of me died, I quickly quit my job, which I knew devastated my colleagues and the rest of New York entertainment—insert eye roll here—and jumped on the next plane to Virginia.

  Now, I have to be honest. There was a little part of me that was tempted to fly to San Diego. It was the part of me that hated to wonder about the “what ifs” and was okay with dealing with regret.