Hope for Her (Hope #1) Read online

  My face went flush as he turned to stare at me again. I looked away.

  I needed to suck it up and talk to him. I figured I had until the end of class to figure out something to say. I would start by apologizing for not returning his calls. Thank him for taking care of me the other night and try and persuade him to give me another chance. He would give me another chance because he liked me. He had asked me out in the first place, right?

  My anxious heartbeat slowed to a relaxed rhythm, and I stopped sweating.

  I tried paying attention to the professor, but Calculus held no interest up against the saga I created in my own head.

  Lost in one of my fantasies, I caught Josh in the corner of my eye, gathering his stuff and walking out the door.

  Where is he going?

  I panicked.

  The entire class turned to watch Josh exit.

  I gathered my stuff and bolted down the steps. As I exited the room, the professor held his hands out and asked, "Anyone else need to leave?"

  I ran down the hall and out the door. I assumed he exited this way. A desperate squeal escaped my lips, but it morphed into a squeal of excitement. I spotted him as he walked down the path to the student union.

  I took off running but began slowing down halfway.

  What am I going to say?

  I caught up and fell in step two feet behind him. I reached out and grabbed his shirtsleeve and the book in his arm fell with a thud.

  "What the fuck?" he said as he turned around. His expression softened, but then it got all hard and stern.

  His eyes darted around, and he cleared his throat.

  I fought the urge to bolt.

  "What?" he yelled. Students stopped and stared.

  He bent down to grab his book. I needed to figure out something; in a few seconds, he would stand up and walk away. I needed to speak up, or he would walk away forever.

  My mind went blank.

  He stood back up.

  Standing in front of me, he tilted his head to the side and crinkled his nose. As I still didn’t say anything, he shook his head and turned to walk away.

  "For someone who wants to be my boyfriend, you're not acting like it,” I said.

  He turned back to face me. Confusion and frustration spread across his face. I said the wrong thing. I dropped my head and turned. When he dropped his books. The sound made me jump, but not as much as when he reached out and wrapped his hands around my biceps. My instincts were to pull away from the sudden contact, but it only made him increase his grip. My stomach fluttered as I searched my brain trying to find something to say that didn't sound stupid or pathetic or desperate.

  He remained silent and pulled me close. I leaned toward him while my mind screamed, No, don’t do it, run away. I shouldn’t be doing this, not out of fear of him, but out of fear of losing control.

  My breath increased and my heart was pounding out of my chest. A small part of my brain registered the pain from how tight he held my arms, but another part of my brain overrode the pain and my heart rate spiked with the realization.

  Oh, shit. He's going to kiss me.

  And, he did. His lips landed on mine, and it made my head spin. I was thankful for the grip on my arms, because I would have otherwise melted into the ground. His hard grip was a direct contradiction to his soft lips. I felt him pulling away and I followed, seeking more contact, but his grip flexed as if warning me to stop. I didn’t have a second to think because his lips were back on mine, harder this time. He angled his head to the left, and he slid his tongue between my open lips. As soon as our tongues touched, he withdrew, and I sought it out. His grip on my arms tightened, but as my triceps began to shake, he loosened his grip. He let go and wrapped one arm around my waist. His other hand touched my chin to tilt it to the ideal angle in order for him to kiss me deeper. He directed this epic moment and I followed his cues. He paused and allowed air to pass between our moist lips, but my lips weren’t done.

  He opened his mouth and my tongue found his as I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his neck. I pulled him closer, and he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.

  He no longer seemed in control of the situation. He reacted to my every move. I was in control.

  God, it felt good.

  ***

  Joshua Elijah Griffin, IV

  The kiss on the quad started as an experiment, a gauge or baseline to see how far I could push her. It was a game I played with girls my whole life. I not only needed to be in control, I needed the girl to let me be in control. But with Carrington it ended different. I relinquished control—weird for me, but I could tell it excited her.

  I liked that.

  I had no doubt we would be standing in the quad until daybreak, experiencing the most epic kiss of my lifetime, if we didn’t have an audience. The fucking crowd ruined the mood.

  We pushed off of each other. She covered her mouth while I bent down to get my books. I grabbed her hand away from her mouth; I wanted to see that beautiful smile. I kissed her hand and led her into the student union.

  We found a table near the back wall and sat side by side. I held onto her hand as we sat down.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "What?" she said.

  "I said, I'm sorry."

  "For what?" she asked as she squeezed my hand.

  "I don't know." I laughed and raised her hand up to my lips and kissed it again.

  "I should be apologizing. I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls or text."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "I humiliated myself, acting like that at the party."

  "You were kind of out of control."

  "But you kept an eye on me."

  She looked up at me with those amazing brown eyes and all I could think about was the way her lips felt on mine.

  "For a while anyway. I lost track of you at some point. I think it was when you were grinding on Randolph."

  "Oh my God." She hid her face in her hands, and I grabbed them and put them in her lap.

  "Don't worry about it. It's fine. No one remembers what goes on at those parties."

  "I'm not embarrassed because of that. I'm embarrassed because I have no idea who Randolph is."

  "Well, if I tell you, you'd really be embarrassed." She waited for me to answer. "He's the president of my fraternity."

  "No."

  "And if you can't remember him grinding on you, he should be the one embarrassed." She laughed a real, genuine laugh, and it made me happy. I laughed along with her.

  "Okay, so what else happened? Is he the guy I threw up on?"

  "No, that was Brandon."

  “I did warn him."

  "You unloaded on him in the hallway." I stopped laughing. "How did you know that door was my room?"

  She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. It was adorable. When she looked up, her hand covered her mouth. The same lips I kissed a minute ago.

  "I didn't. Yours was the third door I knocked on. The first one, some guy opened the door naked, no one answered the second door. I knocked on the third door and there you were."

  "Third time’s a charm or something like that."

  "You were so sweet to me, but when I woke up, I thought we had...”

  Her light brown cheeks turned a reddish tint, and her embarrassment warmed my heart.

  "You are so cute." I leaned over to kiss her warmed cheek, my lips lingering. "We didn't. I was a perfect gentleman."

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  She held my gaze, not embarrassed at all with me.

  "Maybe I could treat you to dinner. To thank you properly."

  "No, our first date, I'm taking you out," I said.

  "Okay, but technically this is our second date," she pointed out.

  "Let’s just pretend the first one didn’t count," I suggested.

  "When?"

  "How about tomorrow night?" I needed time to plan something to blow her mind.

  "Sure." She looked at her
watch. "I have to go. I have class in a few minutes."

  "Okay, I'll text you later with details."

  "Cool."

  I stood up and pulled her up. Standing in front of each other, my mind went to our kiss, the softness of her lips, and the feel of her tits against my chest.

  She expected me to kiss her, and I wanted to. I leaned in, but at the last minute I redirected my lips and kissed her on the forehead. The awkward exchange resulted in her giving me a half smile and heading out of the student union.

  As she walked along the glass wall, she touched her lips, and a slight smile crept up from the corners of her mouth. I caught her full smile as she disappeared from sight.

  I am so stupid.

  She wanted me to kiss her again, but I hesitated, and she walked away. We'd gone from sharing an incredibly hot moment to the type of goodbye I reserved for my sisters.

  She said something about knocking on the second door and no one answered. That was Jackson’s room. If he had been in his room, this would have ended different.

  I laughed at the thought of how close she had been to hooking up with someone else.

  From the moment she entered my world; I created an idea of her in my mind, but the more time I spent with her, the further away from my fantasy she became.

  Over the last week, I thought about Carrington all the time. She replaced my desire to do drugs. With all those thoughts, I realized my mistake. I had created the perfect version of her in my head before I got to know her.

  We shared an incredible first kiss, but I hesitated because I wanted the memory of our first kiss to linger in her mind. It was perfect, and I didn't want to tempt fate. I'd die before I disappointed this girl again.

  My standards remained high, and nothing short of perfection would do for my Carrington.

  Chapter Nine

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  I walked back from class when I received a text from Josh. When we said goodbye the day before, I put our strange exchange along with one amazing kiss out of my head. His text brought it all back.

  The feel of his lips, his grip on my arms, and the recap from the night before—my mind bounced from excitement to frustration.

  Josh: Dinner tonight. I'll pick you up at 7:00.

  I responded.

  Carrington: Sounds great. Can't wait.

  I expected a response but got no acknowledgement. I hated feeling like this.

  Jessica returned to our room, as I got ready for my date.

  "Hey, you look cute. Where you going?" she ask.

  "I have a date," I said.

  "Oh yeah, with who?"

  "A guy in my Calculus class. His name is Josh Griffin."

  I turned to find her staring, perched on the side of her bed.

  "Josh Griffin?"

  "Yeah."

  "As in Griffin Library. That Josh Griffin?"

  "Oh shit."

  "Yeah, he's in my boyfriend fraternity. His dad is a big deal, but I've never met him."

  "I didn't put it together." I grabbed a bottle of water from my desk.

  What am I getting myself into?

  "No offense, but I'm kind of surprised he asked you out."

  "Oh, yeah. That's not offensive at all." I turned and stared.

  "No, I mean. From what I've heard about his family, they are old school, traditional."

  "What do you mean? What does that have to do with me?” I asked.

  “Well, you’re black.”

  “Thanks for the newsflash, I appreciate it.”

  “You don’t see a lot of interracial couples with the last name Griffin living in Florida, if you know what I mean.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was joking with me.

  "But they're from Florida. I'm sure there's a mulatto baby in there somewhere."

  I wonder who told Jessica she was funny. I stared at her until she finished laughing at her own joke.

  "It doesn't matter, does it?"

  "No, not really. Unless he takes you home to meet his family."

  "I'm not marrying the guy. We're having dinner. He's cute and kind of intense and I like him."

  "I guess it doesn't hurt to have a millionaire's son as a fuck buddy."

  I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs to wait for Josh.

  I came from a wealthy suburb in Dallas and have been around money all my life. My parents made a good living and provided a good life for us.

  The conversation with Jessica was fresh in my mind, and I tried my best not to freak out.

  As I waited for Josh, I looked across the street and Griffin Library stared back at me. I took a deep breath and tried to ward off an anxiety attack.

  I took out my phone and typed into Google: Griffin Family Florida

  I caught a glimpse of the first page—an image of Josh and a tall, gray-haired man with a thin-lipped smile stood next to him, and two women with semi-scowls on their face were in front of them. I hit the home button and put the phone down. It seemed shady to find out about his family like that; I wanted him to tell me.

  I hated Jessica for putting doubts in my head. My self-esteem took a nosedive, and I stared at the ground.

  I needed to get out of my head and have fun. Screw the rest of it. I liked Josh, and I looked forward to getting to know him on my own.

  ***

  Joshua Elijah Griffin, IV

  I drove over to the freshmen dorm, pulling my shirt away from my skin, and tried to stop sweating. You'd think I'd never been on a date before. My expectations for tonight were through the roof. I liked this girl, and by the end of the night, my goal was to make her like me.

  She was waiting for me at the steps in front of her dorm. No time for additional pep talks. She always seemed in the power position. I wasn't used to girls being so aggressive unless they were drunk. Carrington needed no liquid courage.

  "Hey Josh," she waved and met me at the bottom of the steps. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I stiffened at first, but relaxed and hugged her back.

  "Hey." I let go and stood at arm’s length, looking her up and down. "You look beautiful."

  She wore a solid green mini dress. It fit tight in the right places and loose in other parts. The black jacket and black boots gave her a biker chick vibe, but with a preppy chick twist. She blushed from the compliment. I loved she was trying so hard, different than our first social encounter.

  "Thank you." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, and it was my turn to blush.

  I grabbed her hand and laced my fingers through hers. She squeezed my hand tight.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "It's a surprise," I answered as we approached my car parked at the curb.

  "Nice car," she said.

  We walked up to my black 1960 Porsche. Restored with original parts, it was the coolest thing I owned, but not exactly inconspicuous.

  "Thanks." I opened the door and watched her slide in the seat. Her skirt hitched up and she pulled it down and placed her hands in her lap. I found her modesty adorable, considering we slept together a few days ago. The idea of seeing her in my bed made me smile. She caught me staring at her legs and when I continued to look despite being caught, she stopped trying to hide.

  We challenged each other, and if it were any other girl, I would have been annoyed. But Carrington intrigued me. I climbed in my car and started the engine. It vibrated and she let out the hottest little giggle. I wanted to skip dinner.

  "Have you been off campus since you got here?"

  "No. I don't have a car," she said.

  "You haven't seen what Tallahassee has to offer?"

  "Yeah, no. It seems like any other small town."

  "Smaller than Dallas, anyway."

  "You've been to Dallas?" she asked.

  "Yeah, a few times. My dad does a lot of business there."

  "I don't miss it. I couldn't wait to get out of Texas."

  I grabbed her hand, in her lap, and I loved having my hands on her thigh. Sh
e rubbed my hand with her thumb, and it made me think about her hands rubbing other parts of me. When we touched, her skin shivered. Her touch affected me the same way.

  We drove in silence the rest of the way. All I could think of were my fingers on her leg. It made my mouth dry. I welcomed and despised the moment I had to remove it to turn into the restaurant parking lot.

  We pulled up to an old white mansion. The porch stretched out across the front of the house. An old weathered wooden sign with the words The Waters Hole, est. 1950 hung at an angle on one of the white columns. I turned the car off and watched her as she studied the house.

  "This is a restaurant?" she asked. “Funny name.”

  “Yeah, apparently the Waters family built the house in the early nineteen hundreds. Mr. Waters left the place to his grandson when he died. The grandson went to culinary school and decided to turn the place into a restaurant. The original name was Waters, but it took the place a while to get going, like thirty years. The guy’s family told him he might as well bury his money in a hole in the backyard, so they added Hole and it stuck. ”

  She laughed. "You've been here before?"

  "Yeah, it's one of my favorite places. Come on. You're going to love it."

  I got out of the car, and she waited for me to open her door. I offered my hand to help her out of the car. When my hand touched her lower back, she shivered. As we neared the door, one of the owners of the restaurant walked out with an unlit cigarette between his lips. He started to light it, but stopped when he spotted us.

  "Joshua, the fourth," Mr. Waters said. "Is that you? What are you doing up here in these parts? I thought you defected to the other side."

  "Hi Mr. Waters." He pulled me into a tight bear hug. The man's huge beer gut always made me uncomfortable.

  "It's so good to see you, young man. You look good," he said.

  "Thanks." I stepped back. "Mr. Waters, this is my friend, Carrington."

  "Carrington," he said as he bowed. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

  Carrington smiled in a polite manner. She gripped my hand in both of hers and stood behind me. He reached out to shake her hand, and she took it but dropped it quick. Mr. Waters made no qualms about checking her out.