The Return

Chapter Sixteen

Holly
Monday April 17th 2021.

The two days leading up to Rowan Giovanni's house party were harrowing. Holly counted the hours off like a prisoner lost in time.

Kyle spent each evening after class walking her down to Mayra's park and then her place where they spent a chunk of the night to the point that Georgia set an extra plate out for him and had him sample Friday night's jollof-rice.  He had the woman wrapped around his fucking finger. She was practically cooking for him now, eagerly looking forward to his opinion on her food. No surprise there. Acting like the son they never had, even going as far as helping out with the goddamn gazebo and entertaining Vaughn's empty conversations about baseball.

He let her in on his little plan. It was about as full-proof as a spaghetti strainer, but it was the best they had.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Her words seeped through the bathroom door.

"Can you stop doubting me?"

Did he blame her? His first plan hit the fan.

When he knocked on the living room door that evening, Holly wasn't expecting him to turn up in a pair of faded jeans, a button-down flannel that bulged at the arms, and sneakers. Her tongue ran dry. His tousled hair sat enticingly on the top of his head.  

"I'm just saying, I think we need a fail-safe." She writhed and wriggled with the zipper on her dress.

It fit like a glove, snug around her hips, but breathable. It was a baby blue long-sleeved off-shoulder ruched mini that left little to the imagination. It was an impulse buy from Fashionnova.

Iris would have taken one look at the dress and pegged it as one of Holly's Hooter's Girl looks. To Iris, Holly could either resemble a Tom-Boy or a Hooter's Girl. There was hardly any middle ground.

"We're already late, there's no time for a plan B,"

She slipped into a black pair of ankle strap heels.

In the mirror, she saw every guy's wet dream. She had the curves and the dark bronze skin and a chest that made men's eyes bulge. Her height alone wasn't for the weak. The hair was done in tight cornrows that fell down her back. All-back Georgia called the hairstyle while weaving it that morning. It still ached from Georgia's firm hand.

"Can we at least have a safe-word? We could have used one with Jenkins." She touched up her concealer.

She opened the door. He fell silent.

She did a twirl and his arms wrapped around her waist.

He brought her to his chest, her back to him. Her heart galloped.  "On second thought, we could afford to be a couple minutes late," He groaned against her ear nibbling on the soft skin of her neck. He didn't miss her slight tremble.

His kisses down to her bare shoulders were lazy, sloppy as if he had all the time in the world.

"My parents can walk in at any moment," That was true. Georgia had more than once lost a pair of socks in Holly's room when she and Kyle were about to do some research.

For the first time in years, Holly was grateful she decided to take things slow. It was new and exciting. Every lingering peck on the cheek, every longing glance she stole. She was as bubbly as an agitated bottle of Champaign and it was all because of an old-school newspaper editor.

He dragged his tongue slowly up her jaw. She muffled a moan. "Anyone else can pick out the first thing in their wardrobe and throw it on, Holly, but you..." He groaned. "Fuck, you can make any man hard in the simplest of dresses," His breathing was warm against her skin.