The first two years that Rich and I were together were not really anything more than a true, deep friendship that no one could know about; a secret club of sorts, of which we were the only two members. When Rich started dating Masie Jackson in the fall of my final year, however, the club suddenly became a game. Gallivanting around town with him was Masie's part in the relationship, whilst mine was to satiate his needs, be they what they may. I knew that he was falling in love with her: how could he not? I also knew, however, that he was already in love with me, and that in the end only one of us would be able to hold his heart. What frightened me, however, was that everyday it looked more and more like it was Masie's to hold.
My name is that of a whisper, writ in water.
The week before the Christmas holidays, I was loitering around the performing arts building, waiting for Philharmonic rehearsal to end so that my sister, Lenora and I could head home. Glancing at my watch, it became exceedingly clear that Mr. Hanover, the orchestra director, was in no mood to release them on time, as the hour hand on my watch pushed close to 11. Sighing, I sat down on the floor outside the band room and stuck my iPod buds in my ears, losing myself to the London Symphony Orchestra and their recording of the "Pirate's of the Caribbean" soundtrack. Humming along with "He's a Pirate", I hardly noticed Rich moving around in his office. Flicking my eyes up on chance, I made eye contact with him through the window, the emerald green of his irises shining despite assured exhaustion. Smiling, I tossed my iPod back in my bag and slipped quietly into the band room just he closed the door to the office.
"Hello love," I said, my voice hushed. Grinning, he tugged on the doorknob to make sure the door was locked and pocketed his keys before grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. Staring up at him for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine, I opened my mouth to say something just as he leaned down and captured my lips in his. Sliding my hands up his strong back, I linked my hands together behind his neck and kissed him deeply for a long moment, before physiology finally forced us apart, gasping for air. Rubbing his calloused thumb along my exposed hip bone, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Can you come over tonight?" he asked, leaning his groin against mine.
"I don't know. I have to take Leo home and then might want to think about homework," I said with a grimace. "And shouldn't you be out celebrating, Birthday Boy?" Rich laughed.
"Hardly. I'd hate to come in tomorrow with a roaring hangover."
"You're 24; I think you can handle yourself."
"Decidedly sure, but I'd rather you handled me instead," he whispered against my neck as he kissed a trail along my jawbone. Giggling, I pulled away before he had the chance to leave yet another inexplicable rouge hicky on my skin.
"I'll be there around one. I have to go," I sighed, hearing the movement outside the room. Stepping out of his grasp, I allowed myself to be pulled back for another kiss, leaving me breathless again. Smiling, I bit my lip and pushed out into the hallway where Leonora was waiting, violin in hand.
"Ready?" I asked. She nodded, following me out. Rich exited the band room as second later, on his cell phone.
"Yes darling, I know! I'll make it up to you later, I promise, but I'm just exhausted. A party pooper, I am. Yes dear. I love you too."
Ducking my head down so that no one could see the flush that raced across my cheeks, I fought the overwhelming guilt for the millionth time that week.