Kai Parker One Shots

Playtime

There was something about Manhattan at night that made it feel more alive than it ever could in the daytime. Maybe it was the near silence in a usually bustling area that highlighted quite overlooked surroundings.  Stars twinkling off the reflection of dozens of skyscrapers, the autumn leaves' hues of brilliant scarlet and orange gathered on temporarily empty sidewalks. Central Park just moments away, lush with nature and the opportunity for adventure. To live among all of this was anyone's dream if they wished for excitement, as New York was forever deemed the greatest city in the world and boring it could never be.

Yet, an air of sadness hung over your head that you just could not shake no matter how you tried. Jake, your boyfriend of nearly three years -had cheated - with your best friend. The loss of the two most important people in your circle all at once was pain so overwhelming that it seemed nothing would be okay again. You had to remind yourself of a quote you'd discovered in recent times: loneliness is part of being human; it reminds you that strength relies not in others but in your own self and that not everyone who you cross paths with is meant to stay. Everything happens for a reason and you had to believe deep down that the future held more than this. Of course it would sting, betrayal of any kind by those trusted is the deepest kind of scar a soul could bear. An unwanted urge to cry strikes as you pull your burgundy cardigan tighter around your shivering frame, cursing the wind that you hadn't bothered to opt for a warmer choice of clothing. 8:05pm. The clock on your phone reminded you of the plans you'd had for tonight with your other close friend.

Ashley had truly been your rock through this entire traumatic mess, offering her ear nearly every night the past week and taking you out on mall trips or even just for a quick burger at McDonald's. This apartment had become a second home, especially since your parents lived all the way in Queens and couldn't always visit. This balcony was awfully cozy, too, what with the onyx three-piece wicker couch with gorgeous vanilla colored cushions and a few perfectly arranged bamboo plants in terracotta pots. A matching coffee table sat in the midst, Better Homes & Gardens and Martha Stewart Living among the magazines neatly stacked by a gathering of unlit candles. She lived with her father, as her mother had moved states in what she'd branded "one of the ugliest divorces you could imagine". Having grown up in a perfectly joyous home with super affectionate parents, you could not relate - but that was okay. What she lacked in family, you lacked in companionship and over that your bond had grown.

"Good evening," interjects a honeyed, exquisitely raspy voice from behind and like a moth drawn to a flame your attention is stolen easily. As you whirl around, you realize it belongs to none other than the man you'd thought of only seconds ago. Unlike the past encounters shared, the locks of his sepia hair were being gently blotted away at with a towel and he was only halfway clothed. Droplets of water cascaded down his sculpted pecs and onwards towards a couple of tufts of hair snaking to a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his curves. Nerves are thrown into disarray, and out of the blue you're riddled with an attraction that had once not existed. Immediately comes shame, being that not only was he off limits as he was Ashley's father but he also had ten years on you even though he and her mother Priscilla had her young. And that was also not including your freshly suffered heartbreak, even if it meant you were technically single. Smoke is exhaled as he tosses the towel aside and lights up a Marlboro cigarette. Perching it between index and middle fingers, he approaches gingerly as though he can sense your worries. Weirdly enough, as the nicotine wafts in your direction it brings you comfort. Malachai Parker is nothing if not an example of an outcast parent, especially since most of his neighbors were prim and proper. The type who went golfing on the weekends at expensive clubs or had their kids on sugar-free diets. He was more so what would be regarded as a cool dad, attending rock concerts over brunches. Owning a Mercedes-Benz. Tattooing a little star on his inner wrist. Claiming multiple times he would be young for as long as possible and not do "prehistoric geriatric shit". "Wasn't expecting to see you here, not that I don't mind the company."