His First Crush Read online

  “Then we should be fine, right?” Keeka asks Karin Jean.

  “As long as she’s sure, then yep.” She smiles.

  Uh, God, am I sure? I think to myself. Then I think of what Logan said last night.

  You need to think about getting prepared.

  “London, if you don’t want to—”

  “No, really, it sounds fun.”

  Fun? What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I’ll go first,” Keeka says, dropping her pants right there.

  When I turn around, she laughs.

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me before. Remember the delivery room?”

  “Oh, my gosh! That’s right!” Karin smiles at her. “Wow, you don’t even look like you had a child.”

  “A little girl, Leddie Lou.” Keeka smiles as she says her name, and my heart melts...momentarily. “But when you get a load of the mess I have down there, I bet I look a hell of a lot like a woman who stopped taking care of herself, so I apologize in advance.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” Karin smiles. “Hop on up there. And London, this should put you at ease a little bit.”

  At ease? Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into?

  Thankfully, Karin is positioned so I’m not getting the entire view of my sister’s vagina...again.

  I’m a visual learner. Whatever my mom or a teacher hasn’t taught me, I’ve learned on YouTube. So, if I take away the fact that this is my sister and my who-ha being next, I should feel more confident.

  Her legs are spread eagle, knees bent and flopped to the sides, and her heels are touching. Oh dear, my stomach knots thinking about when Mom took me to the OB/GYN for the first time and how terrified—no, mortified—I was, but I survived.

  You can do this, I tell myself.

  I look now at Keeka’s face. She’s chatting away like it’s no big deal as a wooden spatula of hot wax is spread over her pubic area. Next is a strip of cloth, just like those used to wax eyebrows, only bigger, is placed on her. Then Karin Jean pulls it away.

  I look from the hair speckled cloth as it’s tossed into the trash can to quickly looking up at Keeka, who looks totally fine.

  They continue chatting, and honestly, I am glad she went first because my anxiety is not as high as it was when I realized what was going on.

  After about fifteen minutes, she is done with that area, and then I watch as Keeka flips to her stomach and then pushes up into what I would describe as the child’s pose.

  I look away when a new wooden spatula nears her butt and Karin Jean asks, “Eyebrows, too?’

  “Might as well.” Keeka laughs.

  When she hops off the table, she’s fine, absolutely fine, and I tell myself I will be, as well.

  Being a little more modest or maybe it’s self-conscious, I turn my back and shed my leggings and panties. Then I sit on the table, and Karin Jean drapes a small cloth over my exposed center, which gives me a little more privacy, and for that, I’m grateful.

  When the hot wax hits my skin, I take a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?” Karin asks.

  I smile and nod. “Of course.”

  When she applies the wax removal strip and rubs it against my skin, I feel a little bit uncomfortable. When she rips it off, I feel like I’m on fire and may die. However, her cool, gloved hand immediately covering my heated flesh eases a little.

  “You okay?” she asks as she reaches for another wooden spatula.

  I have yet to catch my breath, so speaking isn’t an option.

  She looks back at me. “Do you need a minute?”

  I nod.

  She smiles and says, “So, London, is that a nickname or your real name?”

  “Real,” I squeak out.

  “That’s a beautiful and unique name.”

  Aside from the fact that she just ripped hair from my body, I think I love this woman. She is so personable and professional that, if it didn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be awkward.

  “Shall we start again?” she asks. My eyes widen, and she nods. “Maybe you’d like to try another time?”

  Keeka laughs. “And leave her with a bald patch?”

  I think I like Karin’s idea.

  “I could shave.”

  Both Keeka and Karin look at each other and giggle.

  Now I’m mortified.

  Karin looks back at me and apparently sees that. “Oh, honey, we aren’t poking fun at you.” She smiles.

  “It’s me,” Keeka says. “I had a razor incident that landed me in the ER and in desperate search for another way to groom.”

  “Meaning?”

  Keeka stands up and walks right next to my head. “I had sex for the first time with a guy who apparently had never seen a woman with a full bush. It embarrassed the hell out of me, so I shaved.”

  “And you ended up in the ER?”

  “After two weeks, I had this bump. I was sure I had gotten an STI from the asshole, so I forced myself to put my tail between my legs and get tested. The nurse practitioner told me that she was sure it wasn’t an STI, that in fact she’d seen it several times and it was caused by an ingrown hair getting infected. Apparently, razors harbor bacteria and, well, it’s not the most sanitary way to clean up our lady parts.”

  “Don’t stop there.” Karin giggles.

  Keeka shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and sighs. “In order to fix the issue, I had to have a procedure.”

  “A procedure?” I ask while thinking how lucky I have been that all the years I have shaved the bikini area I never had such an issue.

  She nods. “And it was a hell of a lot more painful than a Brazilian wax. I dare say it was equivalent to childbirth.”

  “What did they have to do?”

  “A shit ton of novocain to the outer vagina lips hurts almost as bad as lancing the bump so the infection could drain. Oddly, none of those two were as embarrassing as the voicemail I left the guy, blaming him for giving me an STI and calling him a piece of shit.” Keeka shakes her head, and Karin Jean chuckles.

  “So, London, you still wanna pussy out?” Keeka asks.

  I shake my head. “Wax away.”

  Karin starts again about five inches from my belly button, and it’s not as bad as the first strip.

  “I will tell you that, if you do this on a regular schedule, it begins to be less painful,” she tells me as she rips away the next sheet. “Unlike shaving, your hair grows back less coarse and much slower.”

  That’s a relief, and then...Rip!

  Oh God, this is awful, I think to myself.

  “The summer months, your hair will grow back faster.”

  Rip.

  “But honestly, you’ll get used to it.”

  Rip.

  When her fingers now spread me a bit, I grip the sides of the table. The hot wax is more sensitive here, but not painful.

  Phew.

  Rip.

  “Shit!” I cringe.

  “Almost done,” she says as I hang on for dear life.

  When she has removed all my hair, she sprinkles baby powder on me.

  “Okay, now flip over.”

  Dear God, let me not pass gas or something equally as embarrassing as this is, I think to myself.

  Hot wax, cloth, pressure, burying my face in the pillow, and...Rip.

  I sigh.

  “We’re all set,” Karin says, and I lower my ass immediately.

  “Was it that bad?” Keeka asks.

  “Honestly, the butt was the easiest.”

  She laughs. “I’ll make sure to tell Logan that.”

  I gasp. “Oh no, you won’t.”

  “Logan? You’re...” Karin pauses and looks at me, smiling almost sadly. “Logan Links?”

  I nod.

  “So, you’re London Fields.” She nods.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Butt,” Keeka jokes. “See? She’s still talking about the butt.”

  Karin puts her hand over mine. “What happens here, stays here.”

  “Thank you.
”

  And just like that, she asks, “Eyebrows?”

  I smile. “Might as well.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  Preparing To Heal

  Logan

  Walking around the second floor with Leddie, looking at the makeshift tables, I look down at her.

  “There are good people in the world. You’ll be one of them. I’ll be sure of it.”

  I laugh, looking at what we threw together when everything started coming in. We used plywood and saw horses to create the assembly line of tables to hold it all. I’m in awe of how generous this community has been.

  The university donated season tickets to both male and female basketball games next year, and season tickets for football, as well. Some of Dad’s old NFL contacts have donated trips with tickets, hotel rooms, and airfare. Maddox and Brody have Steel Total Destruction coming to open and close out the show with them, as well as at least a hundred travel packets to concerts donated from record labels and individual artists themselves.

  I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out. I see the picture of Mom and I and hit decline. I just can’t allow her in my life, and I sure as hell can’t stay angry at her. She made a choice, and it wasn’t us.

  I look up when I hear laughter from the elevator. It’s not London or Keeka, but it is female.

  When I see a few familiar faces, I realize it’s London’s theater crew.

  “How can we help?” I hear a male voice. I know this one. It’s Fletcher.

  He walks around the group, and I force myself to be grateful that they want to help, and not annoyed that he’s here. Hell, I invited the guy here last week.

  “Thank you for coming, I’m not sure what else needs to be done.” I walk to the boardroom table that’s been pushed to the other side of the room. “I know there’s a list over here somewhere.”

  I look around the mess, hoping to find it, when Fletcher clears his throat.

  “This it?” He holds up a clipboard.

  I nod. “Appears so.”

  “All right.” He smiles as he looks down. After a moment, he nods and looks up. “It appears these baskets need to be taken to the Dome.” He looks over at the tables as he hands me the clipboard then scratches his head. “That’s a lot of Ubers.”

  “We can walk,” one of the girls suggests.

  “It’s twenty degrees outside and windy as hell.” I chuckle. “I thank you and appreciate the offer, but I suppose I could take a few trips myself when London and Keeka get back.”

  “We have four vehicles here,” I hear my dad say and look up. “A couple trips should do it.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Maddox says as he and Brody enter the room.

  It goes silent, then a few giggles erupt.

  I look at Fletcher. “I’ll grab the diaper bag.”

  “I’ll help them gather their wits.”

  I nod. “Good luck.”

  Four trips in four vehicles loaded with college girls who love music and are no doubt swooning over Brody and Maddox, and the room is empty of over one hundred baskets to be given to people who spend one hundred dollars to spend the day celebrating Each Moment. Fletcher rode with me and Leddie each trip, and surprisingly, we are still alive.

  When we return from the final trip, Dad orders pizza and wings to be delivered for everyone.

  Twenty minutes from that time, all hell breaks loose when a tall, dark-haired girl walks into the room and asks who’s in charge.

  “We are,” I tell her, and she looks around.

  “Aw, Brody and Maddox Hines.” She smiles as she shrugs off her coat. Then she quickly walks to them, holds out her hand, and says, “I’m Isabella Steel, my uncle Xavier manages Steel Total Destruction. They’re checking into their hotel and would love to come over after they get settled.”

  “No way,” one of the girls whispers.

  Brody nods to her. “Of course.”

  “How is security?” she asks, pulling out her phone.

  “Tight,” Maddox assures her.

  “And these people?” she asks, looking around.

  “They’re my daughter’s classmates and volunteers,” he answers.

  “Have background checks been conducted on them?” she asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

  “Of course they have,” Maddox answers.

  “They have?” one of the girls whispers to another.

  “Oh God, I hope not.” She giggles.

  “Alexandra Sanford,” Maddox says, and her head spins in his direction, her mouth agape.

  “You know my name?”

  “He knows everything.” Dad laughs, trying to make light of the situation.

  “Wow,” she says.

  “Are you security for STD?” Maddox questions Isabella Steel.

  She shakes her head. “I’m public relations for all of Steel Incorporated. Their last PR rep is...on vacation, and I thought it would be a fun trip.” She hits a few more buttons on her phone then looks at London’s classmates. “Do you suppose you could keep your shit together and help me sell this event out?”

  “They’ve kept their shit together thus far,” I answer for them.

  Isabella Steel looks at me and cocks her head. “I know you. You’re the one who ran through the building in that bad-ass truck.”

  “There was something inside I needed to get to.”

  She smiles. “London Fields.”

  I shrug.

  “Did someone say my name?”

  I look toward the door, seeing London and Keeka walk in.

  Her hair looks different. I like it. Fuck, she could be bald and I would like it.

  Her eyes lock on me, and she smiles.

  “Okay. We can use you two. How damn cute is that?” Isabella Steel smiles.

  London walks around and hugs her peers. “Thanking them all for coming.”

  “She’s precious,” Isabella says, standing next to me.

  “She’s something all right.”

  She laughs. “So, have you done a ton of interviews and—”

  “No.”

  “How have you avoided that?”

  “As Maddox said, security’s tight.” I look over and smile at her. Up close, I can see she’s not much older than London. “Excuse me please.”

  I walk over to Maddox. “Could I have a minute?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, but your sister’s birthday is next week, and I’d like to plan something. Figured I’d ask for some help.”

  He smiles. “Of course.”

  An hour later, there are pizzas, wings, drinks, and bags of chips completely covering the tables that the baskets once sat on. Everyone has eaten, and aside from the obvious excitement for the live interviews with STD, Isabella Steel has the girls from the drama department posting live interviews using the hashtag, #Everymoment.

  London sits next to me, beaming as she watches her peers. “They’re having such a good time.”

  “They are.”

  “I’m so glad, because they’ve definitely been out of sorts since, well, you know.”

  Annoyed, because I should have asked her more about classes and how things have been since she was outed, I reply, “No, but you could fill me in.”

  She glances over. “The whispers are not like high school, but they’re there. I think it’s more out of concern for all we went through, you know. But if it gets to that point, then there is always Ithaca College, and I could change my name again.” She laughs.

  “I think you’ll be fine, pretty.” I pull on a strand of her hair, and she looks at me. “Highlights?”

  She smiles. “Low lights.”

  “They look nice,” I tell her.

  “I’m glad you like them.” She grins then looks back at her classmates. “So, you really think it’s going to be okay after all this has quieted down?”

  “I do. If not, I’ll make it better, because this is home, London.”

  She looks over at me and smiles.
r />   “I’m gonna head up; give you time to actually get in there and chat with your friends.”

  “You’re fine,” she says, standing when I do. “Stay.”

  I shake my head. “You need to show them that, regardless of all this, you’re still you.”

  She giggles. “I can do that with you here.”

  I bend down and kiss the top of her head. “Go show them that you’re the same girl that you were before Chaos. Show them you can stand on your own and shine.”

  As I walk toward the door, Maddox calls after me, “Where are you going?”

  “Heading up.” I look at London. “She’s got this.”

  He nods, and then I walk out, Dad following.

  As we wait for the elevator, he asks me why I’m leaving.

  “My girl needs to shine, and fuck if I’ll ever dull her light.”

  I look back when I hear someone clear their throat. Brody and Maddox are behind us.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.” Brody runs his hand through his hair.

  “Tough pill to swallow, isn’t it?” Dad looks at Brody.

  “It’s starting to go down a little easier.”

  §

  With Dad, Maddox, and Brody staying the night, I know London won’t chance coming in here, so I shoot her a text.

  Meet me at midnight in the greenhouse.

  Is it finished?

  No.

  Then, why didn’t you say the roof?

  I flop back on my bed and chuckle as I realize, a few months ago, I would have engaged just to prove I was right, even if I wasn’t. Realization hits that she was right with the Lord London shit, but then, I needed her to listen to me, for fear she would fuck up and get hurt, or fuck up with the wrong guy. I briefly think, Well, she’s grown up, but that brief thought dissipates when I realize we both have.

  See you then.

  When the door opens onto the roof where someday there will be a greenhouse, I stand up from the double chaise and hold out my hand.

  “It’s really cold out here,” she says, teeth already chattering.

  “Cuddle season,” I remind her as she hurries to me.

  I grab the blanket I brought and wrap her and me up in it.

  “What are we doing out here?” she asks, pushing her freezing cold hands up my shirt, and I swear I hear a sizzle.

  “We’ve gone on a date, danced, but we’ve never looked at the stars,” I tell her, walking us to the chaise.