Promise Me

I frown in confusion.

“At helping people, lifting others up, and supporting a cause. Last night at the art exhibit I watched you engage the artists and their families. You knew every student by name. You knew their projects and said something special, something personal, about each one. You took efforts to make them feel proud of their work.”

The compliment is like sunshine after six months of rain. “They should feel proud. We sold every piece and raised close to twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“That’s fantastic,” he says. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m on cloud nine that I got to be a part of it.” I gather my hair and pull it over one shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, can you sing?”

His mouth quirks up, and my female parts hum. “Not at all. You?”

“Not even a little.”

“So you and I should definitely team up for the next karaoke night.” He leans back and crosses his arms.

“It’s always better to get laughed at with someone.”

“That’s my theory.” Vaughn’s brilliant green eyes, the ones that intimidated me when we first met, sparkle with a one-two punch of warmth and desire. It’s impossible to remain unaffected when he looks at me like that.

“What was the first concert you went to?” I ask, fiddling with the hemline of my dress.

“Coachella.” A look of nostalgia turns his one-in-a-million face into a one-in-a-billion piece of chiseled art. Vaughn is so much more than what people see on the outside. “It was the tenth anniversary of the music festival, and I went with my sister. Andie had been before so knew all the ins and outs. I think we both slept a total of eight hours in three days. It was awesome.”

“Who did you get to see?”

He runs his fingers through the hair at his temple. “Paul McCartney, The Cure, Morrissey, The Crystal Method, The Black Keys, Thievery Corporation, Amy Winehouse, and a bunch of others. Every one of them was epic. What about you? First concert? Wait. Let me guess.” He studies me like he can read my mind, so I think about a baby giraffe to throw him off.

“Destiny’s Child,” he says after hardly any deliberation.

My mouth drops open. “How did you know?”

He has the decency to look surprised—for all of one second—before he laughs. “Sheer brilliance on my part.”

“More like sheer luck,” I fire back.

“That, too. Plus you were humming ‘Bootylicious’ the morning I came by to apologize and get my keys.”

Was I? I honestly don’t remember, but my heart skips a beat over the fact that he tucked away such a small detail. The waitress arrives with our drinks. “Your food will be out in a minute,” she says.

Vaughn waits for her to step away before he sends me a sly smile. “And you are, by the way.”

“I am what?” I ask with my glass halfway to my lips.

“Bootylicious.”

My face heats as I take a long gulp of iced tea, and another hip-hop classic pops into my head: Nelly’s “Hot in Herre.” Yep, I’m ready to take off all my clothes with Vaughn again.

…

“Keep your eyes closed,” Vaughn says softly.

“I am.” I squeeze his hand tighter, hoping I don’t trip over my feet on our way to his bedroom. The house is quiet, making me acutely aware of my own breathing. “Have I mentioned I hate surprises?”

“Only twice since we walked through the front door, but too bad.”

I hear the creak of a door then sense brightness. The door clicks shut. Vaughn lets go of my hand.

“Can I open them now?”