Reckless (13 page)

“Yes, we’re serious,” the man smiled. “And we’re not just doing you a favor, young lady. I can tell from here your work is good.”

“Oh, Ted,” his wife said, “Stop. You’re embarrassing the poor girl.”

“I’m serious, Victoria. I think her work is excellent.”

I blushed from head to toe and smiled wide. I think my teeth were blushing too.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” Ted asked, reaching toward my crayon painting.

“Sure,” I smiled.

He picked it up and held it so his wife could get a better look.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” Victoria said to her husband, then turned to me. “You have a terrific sense of color. And I can’t believe you did this with kids’ crayons!”

Ted peered through his reading glasses at my art. “It really is good. Excellent composition.” He looked at me over his reading glasses. “How much do you want for it?”

“Uhhh,” I was stunned. “I don’t know?”

Christos chuckled. “Samantha’s new at this, as you may have guessed. Why don’t you guys make an offer.”

I was glad Christos stepped in. I was going to say they could have it for free.

“How about a hundred bucks?” the man said, pulling out his wallet.

“A hundred bucks!” I clapped my hand over my mouth.

Victoria smiled at me and giggled.

“Okay, how about one fifty?” Ted said.

“Oh my god!” I slapped my other hand over my mouth, totally surprised and slightly embarrassed, like I was manipulating them somehow.

Ted looked at Christos shrewdly. “I think your lady friend is an expert negotiator. One fifty it is. But she has to sign it.” Ted winked at me.

“I, no! I mean, I didn’t—” I looked at Christos for help. He merely smiled. “I can’t take your money! You guys can have it. I can’t believe you actually want it.”

Ted and Victoria exchanged a laugh while Ted counted the money out of his wallet and laid it on the table.

"Go ahead and sign it, Samantha” Christos encouraged.

“What? How?”

“You know how to sign your name, don’t you? Pick a color and sign the thing on the front or the back.”

“Oh, on the front, please,” Ted said. “We want people who come to our house to know who the artist is.”

I selected a gold crayon from the box. It seemed appropriate for the occasion. I signed my name on the front corner. When I was finished, I handed my crayon drawing to Ted. “I’ve never sold a painting before,” I squeaked.
 

He read my signature. “Now we can tell people that we have Samantha Smith’s first sold work in our collection.” He turned to his wife. “This oughta be worth something in a few years.” He handed me the money.

“Thank you so much!” I said to Ted, then reached over the table and hugged Christos. “I sold my first painting!”

Ted and Victoria chuckled.

“Here’s my business card,” Ted said, pulling one from his wallet. “Be sure to let us know if you have any work in the Contemporary Artists show you guys were talking about.”

“Ted, we should go get this framed,” Victoria beamed. “Thank you guys so much. Good luck!”

When they were gone I gaped at Christos. “Did you like, plan that or something?”

He laughed. “No. But I did help set the intention for you.”

“I really can’t believe that just happened!” I said, still gaping.

“I’ve seen crazier shit a hundred times in my own life. This is just the beginning, Samantha. I promise,
agápi mou.
”

I wrapped my arms around him gave him a huge smooch. “I love you so much, Christos!”

SAMANTHA

When Christos and I left the boardwalk café we both were getting hungry for dinner. We walked past the strip mall where Thai Doughnut was located. They were still open.

“Hey,” I joked, “want an Apple Fritter for dinner?”

“Tempting,” Christos said thoughtfully. “Maybe dessert?”

“Okay, let’s get regular Thai food.”

Back at my apartment, we hopped in my VW and drove to Bangkok Bay as the sun went down. Christos ordered Roasted Duck Curry and a side of Drunken Noodles.

“How much do you eat a day, really?” I asked.

“Same as a regular horse,” he joked.

I ordered yellow curry, and we drove back to my apartment. We ate sitting on the floor with our backs against my couch, our food on the coffee table.

“Congrats on selling that crayon painting today,” Christos said before forking noodles into his mouth.

“Are you sure that wasn’t a setup? That woman Victoria said she remembered meeting you.”

“That was ten years ago. Probably my grandfather’s last gallery show. There were tons of people there. If I met them, I don’t remember.”

“Are you
sure
sure?” I prodded.

“Accept it, Samantha. Someone bought your artwork today.”

“I know!” I shook my hands in a seated happy dance. “I made a hundred fifty bucks!”

“Now you’re on your way. I think this deserves a celebration. Maybe even a pageant,” he winked.

“Uhhhh….” I squirted a gush of Sriracha hot sauce on my yellow curry.

“Whoa! You got enough hot sauce?” Christos laughed.

“Whoops! Guess I like it hot,” I protested.

“Me too,” Christos winked.

Gulp. I took a bite of my curry. “Woo, hot!”

I was reminded again of the intense oral sexcapades I’d shared with Christos right on this floor, beside this couch and table, less than two months prior. We had been eating Thai food then, too.

As I chewed my curry, the spicy Sriracha sauce must have kicked in because my whole body was hot-flashing. That was the only rational explanation. I was also sure that my equally sudden horniness had nothing to do with the fact that the hottest man on the planet was grinning at me with his sexy dimples from less than a foot away.

“Are you sweating?” he asked.

“No!” I said, fanning my face. I gulped a swallow of water from my glass.
 

Christos grinned. “You look all hot and bothered to me.”

“It’s the hot sauce!” I choked, pointing at my mouth. “Totally spicy!”

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

I nodded.

“Let me see…” He leaned toward me and slid his tongue across my lips. “You’re right. It is pretty hot. But I don’t think it’s the Sriracha.” He sat back down. “I can think of a few good ways to cool off,” he murmured.

“Ice cream!” I jumped up and went to my freezer. I still had several pints of that sweet salve remaining. I grabbed three and carried them back to the coffee table. “This should keep us busy for awhile. Oh! Forgot spoons.” I jumped up and got two spoons from the kitchen. “Dig in!” I said, handing one to Christos.

“I haven’t even finished my duck.”

“Better hurry up, before I eat all the ice cream.” I popped the lid on Double Mint Chocolate Chip and shoveled out a bite.

“You okay, Samantha?” Christos asked shrewdly.

“Mime fine,” I mumbled over a mouthful of ice cream.

“You sure,
agápi mou
?”

I gazed into his amazingly soulful blue eyes. I felt his intense yet endlessly comforting love wrap itself around my heart. I was instantly calm. What
was
I doing? Running away again? From what? From Christos? Was I crazy? Yes. But for once, I finally felt like I had a choice
not
to be. I set my spoon down and took a deep breath.
 

“Christos, ever since we got back from D.C.,” I said, “I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life. You’re the most amazing guy I’ve ever met, but I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back in high school in D.C., with everyone calling me Whore and Suicide Watch and laughing in my face in the hallways.”

“I’m not a dream,
agápi mou
. I’m real.” He leaned into me and pinched my forearm gently. “You’re awake.”

“For the first time ever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I sighed, “maybe this is the first time I’ve ever been awake in my whole life. Like I’d been walking through a haze until I met you. I sold a fricking painting today!” I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. “Thank you, Christos. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,
agápi mou
.” He kissed me again, passionately. Our lips slipped across each other’s mouths as mutual desire kindled between us.

“I want you, Christos,” I said, feeling suddenly bold, “Now.”

He pulled back. “Are you sure?” he asked, his face serious. “Have you thought this through?”

“No.”

“Then maybe we should wait. Until the time is right.”

I sighed and considered for a moment. “That’s what I did with lame Damian. I waited and waited, and everything turned out terrible.”

“I’m not Lamian,” Christos smirked.

“Did you say
Lame
-ian?”

“I did,” he grinned. “Samantha, I can wait as long as you want. I’m not going to rush you or throw a tantrum because you’re not ready.”

I collapsed into him. “I’m
soooo
ready.”

Christos slowly stood up, leaving me on the carpet.

“Where are you going?” My heart clamped up.

“To put the ice cream away. So it doesn’t melt.” He picked up all three pints and carried them into the kitchen.

Silly me.

When he returned, he said, “Are you ready to host your pageant?”

“Yes,” I smiled.

“What does that mean, anyway?”

“Don’t you know? It’s my V-Pageant Celebration tonight,” I smiled coyly.

He chuckled. “Is that the same as turning in your V-card?”

I grimaced. “No. This is way more upscale.”

He squatted down next to me and pulled me into his arms. I instinctively wrapped mine around his neck as he stood up and carried me to my bedroom. My heart raced. My toes tingled. This was it. It was really going to happen.

With the man I loved.

“Shouldn’t we brush our teeth first, or something?” I asked nervously.

“If you want.”

We stood in front of my bathroom mirror, brushing our teeth together. We’d done it before, but it still felt like we were two little kids having a sleep-over, getting ready for bed together.
 

He grinned. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said shyly.

When we finished brushing, he stood by the bathroom door, gesturing back into my bedroom. “After you.”

“Oh my god, I’m so nervous.”

“Relax. It’s going to be fine.”

Somehow, I knew it was. Because I was with Christos. Then panic seized me. I slapped my forehead. “Wait!”

“What?”

“I don’t have any condoms! Do you have any condoms? I’m not on the pill.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I don’t.”

“Don’t you carry a condom in your wallet like most guys?”

“I used them.”

“
Them
? As in, plural?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. He was about to say something.

“Stop! I don’t want to know.” I sighed. “So what do we do now?”

“We go buy some.”

“We?” I said nervously. The idea of walking into a store and buying condoms seemed like something you were supposed to do while wearing a trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and dark glasses to hide your face. “Can’t we order some online? Rush delivery?”

“What, from 24HourCondoms.com?”

“They deliver, don’t they?”

He smirked, “I don’t think they even exist.”

My shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Don’t worry, Samantha. Everyone has sex. No one’s going to judge you for buying condoms. Last time I checked, safe sex is cool.”

“Yeah, but the cashier will be looking at me thinking about how I’m going to be having sex with you later. Maybe we could ask the cashier to join us? Maybe film it?” I joked nervously.

“Isn’t there some slogan like, ‘If you’re afraid to buy condoms, you shouldn’t be having sex’?”

“I think it’s, ‘If you need condoms, ask your boyfriend to buy them while you wait in the car.’”

“Mmmm…no.” He smiled compassionately. “Let’s go.”

“All right,” I sighed. “But I’m wearing a ski mask.”

“They’ll think you’re going to rob the place if you do that.”

“That’s a great idea!” I beamed. “They’ll never know who we are! And we can steal them! Do you have a gun? We’ll need it for the stick up.”

He shook his head. “Uh, no.”

“You don’t have a gun? Okay. Maybe Walmart is still open?”

“No.”

“Are they closed?” I asked, worried. “It’s not
that
late.”

Christos rolled his eyes. “No, we’re not buying a gun. Let’s go.”

“We’re just going to shoplift them? Five-finger the condoms, one for each finger?”

“No, Samantha. We’re going to pay for them. Like adults.”

“Fiiiiiine,” I groaned. I grabbed my purse and we went out the door together.

SAMANTHA

I drove us in my VW to the grocery store. Holding hands, Christos and I walked down an aisle until we stopped at the condom display.

“Which ones should we get?” I asked bashfully.
 

He scanned the packages hooked to the display. “I’m looking for my favorites.”

“You have a favorite?” I grimaced

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s so weird!”

“Do you have a favorite tampon?” he said cockily.

“Yeah?”

“Exactly,” he grinned.

“That’s different!”

“Really?” he said thoughtfully. “How?”

“Because I go through a dozen tampons a month!”

“I go through more than that.”

Confused, I said, “you don’t wear tampons!”

“Nope.” he smiled that stupid cocky smile again.

“Oh,” I grimaced, “…are you talking about rubbers?”

“Yep.”

“That you use when you’re—!!”

“Yep.”

“Christos!”

“Samantha!” he mocked.

“How much sex do you have?! Wait! Don’t answer that!” I jammed my fingers in my ears.

He pulled my fingers out of my ears. “Since I decided I wanted to be more than your mentor? None.”

Phew. That definitely made me feel better. But there was still the issue of quantity to consider.

“Let me get this straight.” I started ticking off on my fingers the number of times he…you know…per month. I gave up. I didn’t have enough fingers. “You have sex, what, every day?”

“Usually. Until I knew you were the woman I’d been waiting for my entire life.”