The Unorthodox Life of Aaliyah Kaye Marx

The Unorthodox Life of Aaliyah Kaye Marx (16)

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I heard someone clear their throat just as I finished setting the last place at our sleek, mahogany, dining room table. Of course I already knew who it was. Even with his stealthy approach and silent breaths, his intoxicating scent swirled around the room the moment he stepped over the threshold.

I inhaled deeply, trying to be inconspicuous, but I could tell by the look on his face that he had noticed. He stepped forward slowly and I followed his every movement with my eyes. He raised his arms, latching onto my arms and pulling my towards him, making me drop the glass I was holding. I barely noticed it shatter on the hard wood floor.

My eyes flickered to his lusciously, full lips for half a second before I allowed myself to look back into his eyes. His penetrating gaze felt like it was piercing right through me. He leaned down slowly, stealing my lips and breath away with his own. I gasped and fisted a hand in his hair and I gasped a second time when his hand brushed over my breast. 

I moaned his name, not even caring that this wasn't like me to let the guy take charge. His hand trailed across my stomach, wavering down further and further, I stared, expectantly into his eyes and with a flash they were gone - replaced with a pair of all too familiar dark blue ones.

I groaned and sat up, shoving Jay away from me.

"You were moaning his name again." He shouted through his mirth, I frowned and growled at him.

"WHY is this happening!? I don't even LIKE him - how can I be dreaming about him?!" Okay, so maybe I told a little white lie to myself there ... I did like Kaden, from his fiery temper to his sculpted body, smooth voice, mischievous attitude, and hypnotizing grey eyes. His tolerance level for all the crap I put him through was surprisingly refreshing as well.

Ever since he'd broken up with Jemima two weeks ago - I had teased him openly at school, 'reducing his stature as a player', or at least that's what he told me. I heard from a good source that he hadn't slept with anyone since my birthday, and even then - he had thought that was me - in his intoxicated state there was no way he could have known.

So maybe I was a little jealous, I slapped myself internally. I don't GET jealous, especially not of my friends. I should pat Jessica on the back and congratulate her on her fine catch. WHAT a way to lose your virginity.

He had become a regular fixture at our house - and more importantly, my balcony. Every single night, we would talk for hours, my lack of need for sleep made it easy for me to sit there for hours with him. Either gazing out at the moon or listening to him sing. But he constantly found new ways to annoy or tease me - I don't know how he did it, but he did. He knew just how to get under my skin - and more often then not, I kicked him off of my balcony, into the rose bushes below.

He had left, on tour, to New York, for three weeks. Only another week to put up with until he got back. Every morning, he was my first thought. And every night it was his face etched onto the backs of my eyelids.

I groaned and slapped my palm against my forehead. I would NOT allow myself to fall in love. It was forbidden. I couldn't help but feel a stab of regret and let my mind wander back to the day before Kaden had left, he had left angry at me ... I had 'accidently' spilt bright, red paint all over his Audi ... And instead of cleaning it up I'd gone inside to wash my hands and gotten side-tracked by a butterfly trapped in my bathroom.

Or at least that was the story I had told Kaden. He didn't believe me, of course - and for the first time since that day in the janitor's closet, we had a full on shouting match at each other.