Monica had always
projected a cold façade and quick temper; and at first Patrick wasn’t sure he
wanted to be involved with someone who had as many issues as she apparently
had. Long before she had ever noticed
him, he had observed all of her routines.
She’d shot down brothers at school so quickly and icily they hadn’t even
realized they’d been hit until she was well on her way. Several months of watching her in action
around campus convinced him that she protected herself by not letting other
people get close to her personal life, by quickly discouraging any man who
thought of her as sensuous and intriguing, by being stubborn in a way that was
designed to drive away all intruders.
He, however, knew how to charm himself back into her good graces, how to
sidestep her when she was pushing for a fight, how to let her win when arguing
over nothing important.
For Patrick, Monica
held an energetic beauty that drew him and held him captive. And she was gorgeous in her determined spirit
that matched the physical attractiveness of her dark chocolate skin, exotic
eyes, and athletic figure.
He was sure she was
also attracted to him, but she’d rejected his attempts to be more than just
study partners so consistently that he’d told her he was giving up hope of them
getting together as a couple. Yet,
during the summer, he’d been unable to get her out of his head; and he realized
his heart was already too involved to just walk away.
Patrick had spent that
following fall semester developing a casual comfort between them. Finally, during the winter break, Monica had
agreed to increase their time together.
She’d even come to his aunt’s house for Christmas dinner.
Over the next year and
a half, they’d gone to dinner and movies and shared whatever other moments she
would let them squeeze out of two hectic schedules. She had smiled shyly at his compliments or a
touch of his hand. He had seen the
quickly hidden flashes of passion in her eyes, and felt her relax at the weight
of his arm around her shoulders. Did she
feel the same tingle as he when he softly kissed her goodnight? Monica was beautiful, and brilliant, and
complicated; she was sometimes childlike and confused.
And he wanted her to
belong to him.
Of course, until this
past May, they’d both been busy working and going to school, so he hadn’t been
able to see her as much as he’d wanted.
And, it bothered him that on special holidays she’d refused to let them
be together. Then, he’d graduated with a
bachelor’s degree in Health Services Administration and been unable to find an
immediate job in Columbus. On top of
that, family problems had pulled him back to Pennsylvania.
When he’d left he’d
also been discouraged and unsure about the status of his relationship with
Monica. Now he stood in front of the
window in this hotel room looking down at the outdoor swimming pool that had
been covered for the fall, not really seeing it. He was where he wanted to be – near
Monica. Patrick had returned less at her
father’s request than because he wanted to be the person she could turn to when
she was in need. But, how would he even
begin to break through her barriers?
Her mother had recently
died, and despite their growing friendship, she had reverted to shutting him
out. She was hurting. Alone.
She did not have to be
alone. He closed his eyes and reveled in
imaginings of them together, her slender five-foot-six body pressed against his
own muscular bulk, her beautiful auburn hair loose and wildly soaked with the
sweat of their lovemaking, her dark brown almond-shaped eyes reflecting back at
him the emotions he knew she was hiding.
He wanted her – heart, body, and soul – and he wanted her to want him,
to say she would stay with him. Forever.
He shook his head to
clear away the fantasies, his black locks swinging with the act. None of that was important. Not right now. First, he must find a way to reach through
her suffering and help her find some strength to hold on to.
“Please, Monica, let my
love heal you. It’s all I have to
offer.”
He closed the curtains,
took off his clothes, and slid between the cool sheets. Tomorrow he would phone his aunt to let her
know he had arrived and get directions to her new condo. She had agreed that he could stay in her
guest room; but he needed tonight to be by himself and think about what he
would say to Monica. How would he
explain his presence without giving away her father’s involvement? How would he convince her not to shut him out
of this painful time in her life? He’d
have to be careful.
With his arms folded
beneath his head and his knees bent to keep his feet from hanging over a bed
that wasn’t compatible with his six-foot-four frame, Patrick played over and
over in his head the scene that would likely occur at Monica’s house in the
morning. He gazed at the ceiling,
letting words and reactions and hopes float in and out of his mind. Then, he said a brief prayer, turned on his
side, and dozed into a light sleep.
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