fantasty kiss, raj say hello [bill gates best books .TXT] 📗

Prologue
Drowning. I found myself using that term a lot lately. Drowning in the lies. Drowning in my emotions. Drowning…in his love. It was all just too much.
The current was pulling me down into its dark abyss but I had to ask myself: did I really want to pull myself up? Or did I want to keep drowning in his affection despite the inevitable consequences?
My body shook with silent laughter as he ran his fingers down my bare back. He flipped me over and stared down at me adoringly.
“God…you’re beautiful.” His voice was husky and smelt of cloves. He must have taken up smoking again. I didn’t blame him. The situation was stressful.
I didn’t answer him with words, though my lips said it all.
He pulled away a little breathless and asked, “What time…what time are your parents expecting you home?”
I smiled. “Not until six. We have a dinner party to go to tonight at seven.”
He sighed. “You have to go soon.”
It wasn’t a question but I felt the need to answer it though I felt differently. “Yes.” I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek absentmindedly.
“Damn.” He looked over at the clock sitting on his bedside table. “Four fifty. We have time.”
He ran his hands through my hair for a moment as he gazed down at my naked form. After a moment, he brought his mouth down to mine and I found myself answering my own question.
No, I was content, drowning in this forbidden fantasy.

Chapter One
“Layla, come on we are going to be late!” Rebecca screamed from the living room.
She didn’t have to yell, the walls were paper thin, even if I was upstairs. I probably would have heard her if she whispered it.
I could hear my father’s keys rattling as he headed to the car. He knew I was becoming a woman and like all women, we took a while to get ready. I was currently in a royal blue sweater dress with black leggings and matching ballet flats. The blue went perfectly with my light caramel skin tone. My normal long curly brown hair, which I usually kept in a ponytail, was brushed in silken waves down to the small of my back.
When I was done I went down to the kitchen were Rebecca waited impatiently. I could understand her anger; this auction thing was a big deal to her. It was her work after all and I was making her late. The fact that I had come home thirty minutes late wasn’t any better, but I always lost track of time when I was with Jack. He’d had practice and I couldn’t miss it.
She shooed me to the car and we headed downtown.
Earlier Rebecca had told me there would be a lot of important people there and for me not to mess anything up. I told her I wouldn’t and she looked toward my father. He looked at me and I promised him I wouldn’t screw this up for her. He was the glue in my mother and my relationship. Well, my stepmother and my relationship. My real mother had died when I was eleven. After that, my father moved us from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to the pleasant city of Baxter Springs, Kansas where he met Rebecca White.
She wasn’t anything special. Younger than my father by about five years maybe, shoulder length red hair and laugh lines, though I never heard her laugh enough to prove how she’d gotten them. She was a tall woman, a little too skinny if you asked me, but then again no one ever asked me what I thought anymore.
We arrived to the auction house about five minutes late. Rebecca told everyone it was because of the traffic and they all believed her. My father and I sat as she got things in order and settled down the crowded room.
The first few pieces she auctioned off went quickly but when it came to an old rug that looked like someone had taken a crap all over it, things started to slow a bit. As she spoke, her voice seemed to carry on like an old record player being slowed.
When it was finally over, we mingled for a while; moving from white room to white room looking at different paintings and artifacts. I left my parents to look at some painting with a weird red smear on it.
“Very unique, isn’t it?” A man asked from behind me.
I jumped at his sudden appearance.
“Sorry,” he said giving me an apologetic smile, which made me falter a bit. He was quite handsome.
“It’s alright,” I told him. I moved out of his way and continued to stare at the painting.
“Do you like it?” He asked.
I tilted my head to the left. “I’m not sure. It-it looks like a blood smear. As if someone reached their bloody hand out and just wiped it on a piece of paper. No, I don’t like this. It’s too... simple.”
I looked up to see him holding back a smile. He nodded his head and said, “Interesting. May I ask your opinion on these?” He pointed to three more.
One was a black and white photo of a small girl. She was crying over her dead dog’s body, or rather what was left of it. It looked as if the dog had been run over. Another was a painting of a naked woman, but she was grotesque. Her limbs and features were in the wrong places and her eyes were dark red with black circles around them. The other was a painting of a Gothic home. Not Gothic like the new frenzy of metal, but a classic European feel. Red streaks ran from the windows making it look menacing.
“Is this all the same person?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I like them all. The girl, she shows a strong sadness and I can feel her pain. The woman, she’s strange, shows we are not perfect. The circles around her eyes say she’s tired of striving to be that way. And the house says don’t come knocking if you hear any screams. Makes me think of domestic violence, maybe?”
He stared at me for minute, green eyes inquisitive, and then asked, “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I replied a little shyly as to why this man was asking my age.
He seemed to be older than I was by a few years, though I wasn’t sure how many, and taller than me by a few feet. I found myself constantly looking up at him. His short black hair reached the tip of his ears but looked a little strange on him seeing as he looked about twenty-eight. It made me wonder if he was going through a midlife crisis early. He wore jeans that seemed to be a bit too loose on him and a black shirt with white stripes.
To be honest he didn’t look like he belonged in this setting. Everyone else was dressed in slacks, ties, and heels, but him? Sneakers?
“You think differently than that of a teenager. Your mind seems to be…ahead of the game so to speak.”
“I get that a lot.” I shrugged.
“You’re 'becca’s daughter, right? I saw you all come in together.”
“Step-daughter actually,” I said brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “And you?”
“Devin.” He extended his hand and I shook it. “I’ve heard so much about you. Rebecca has mentioned so much of you that I feel I know you.”
“There you are Layla,” Rebecca said coming up behind Devin. Speak of the devil.
My father was with her though his eyes said otherwise. He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here, then his eyes traveled to Devin and our linked hands. Devin released my hand and put his in his pockets. I rolled my eyes.
“Devin, I see you’ve met my step-daughter.” Rebecca smiled at him.
“Yes, she’s very bright. Plus she said she likes my work so that’s an extra bonus.”
Rebecca laughed while I eyed him. “Your work?”
He nodded.
“Yes, he didn’t tell you?” Rebecca asked. “He’s very talented to only be twenty-six. Which is why I’m sad to be letting him go, he’s leaving us to become a teacher.”
I didn’t like the way she said teacher. She made it sound like he was wasting his life on something frivolous.
“But I’ll still be painting,” he said. “I’ve just always wanted to give back you know? Teaching seemed like a fulfilling job. I actually majored in education in college.”
Devin and I smiled at each other.
My father cleared his throat.
“Yes?” I asked looking at him.
“Shouldn’t we be getting home?” He whispered into Rebecca’s hear. “She’s got school tomorrow.”
He did a horrible job of whispering it to her, Devin and I could hear him clear as a bell. He was just in daddy mode right now. He didn’t know I was dating Jack and this was exactly why. He was a little weird when it came to boys and me. However, Devin wasn’t really a boy, but a man.
Rebecca laughed nervously and excused them both. She took my father to a different room, probably to talk to him.
I on the other laughed a little at my father’s over protectiveness.
“I don’t envy the boy that has to ask you out,” Devin said smiling down at me.
“Which is why I don’t date.” I lied.
“You should, you’re pretty…” I raised an eyebrow. “Intelligent, pretty intelligent,” he finished.
I tried to hold back my smile but couldn’t. A small laugh formed in my throat.
“Sorry, sometimes I forget to finish my sentences.”
“Sure,” I said laughing.
I looked from Devin to see my father coming out of the room Rebecca had taken him. He didn’t look too happy to see me still talking to Devin.
“Look I’ve got to go, I’ll see you around.”
I walked away, and as I did, I could have sworn I heard him say, “I hope so.”
The ride home was uncomfortable. My father kept mumbling something like, “Too young for him.” He would look into the rear-view mirror and stare at me occasionally.
I could tell when he thought I was sleeping, he’d catch himself and smile like he used to do when he watched me sleep. Well, thought I was sleeping. I could feel him watching me and I’d pretend to stay that way. Then I could feel the happiness emitting off him.
When we got home, I did my usual routine. I showered, brushed my teeth, said goodnight to my father, and then went to bed.

Chapter Two

I walked into my second class and saw Marina waiting for me anxiously. She practically bounced in her seat. She was the go to person for gossip and today she was sitting on something big. Her brown hair, darker than mine by a few shades, was bobbing around her small face as she waited for me.

She was wearing the red and gold kimono I’d given her a few years ago. I’d grown out of it but her weight never changed so she’d have it a lot longer than I would. It had looked good on me but looked even better with her skin tone. While my skin was caramel, hers was light mocha, darker by a shade or two compared to mine.
I walked slowly, just to mess with her, and she rolled her eyes. I laughed as I sat my things down then sat myself in the seat next to her.
“Oh. My. Gawd,” She said making each word its own sentence. “They fired Mr. Finch.”