I Love New York Ch. 04

"Do you want to play a game?"

"I'm not very good at following rules."

"There is only one rule. If I get you hard, you have to let me have you. No matter what, whenever I decide I want you..."
"With the way he was pressed against me, I had already lost. It became a thing with us. Whenever he wanted me, he would play his head game. It bothered me. Everything about it bothered me. It was too much like what my dad did. And the look in his eyes," I shivered, "It was the same look my dad had."

"I couldn't stop though. That's not how the fucking game works. There is no stopping. There is no way. He's infectious and it's disgusting. Everything about him is WRONG and bad and dirty. And I hate him. I hate him so much!" My fingers crashed down again, and the tears never stopped. "I hate how much control he's got on me. I hate that I can never say no. I hate that I slept with my best friend. I hate that Kayden wants a relationship with me and I cant stop being an idiot for long enough to see it."

I stopped. I just stopped. My hands slid from the piano, and I stared at the beautiful instrument. Finally, I felt empty. I felt so small and insignificant, I felt like this was the bottom and I was staring up at the open sky wondering how the hell I was going to get back up there. But it was a good emptiness. A hollow, breathless feeling. I was alive. And I was okay. And it could only go up from here. It was a renewal. A rebirth. And Devon Maxwell Davis was starting fresher than ever before.

"That isn't the end." Professor Wrought finally spoke. "A young man with as much heart as you will have a happy ending, Devon." He stood up, an encouraging smile on his face. His footfalls were heavy and loud as he clunked across the stage and through the maze of seating. He walked down the auditorium steps and stopped at the double doors to look back at me a final time. "And heart is everything."

"I told you. I'm done with the game. You need to find someone else, Lucas. I can't live like this." I managed. I felt Cassidee's hands slide around my waist, her big smile encouraging.

I could hear his breath catch, and the fragile sound of it made me shudder. If I closed my eyes, I could see the look on his face, his beautiful jawline distorted with a frown.

"You shouldn't frown, Luke. You'll wrinkle." I murmured into the receiver, breathing in at the sharp pain in my chest. Let go. Just let go of it all.

He didn't speak a word, so I continued in monotone, one by one the massive weights I'd carried because of him began to lift, and it was scary, but so incredibly refreshing.

"I'm sorry. I've had some great times. That time in the dressing room at Ross? That was a plus. But I want to love someone. I want to feel for someone. I'm sorry."

It was true. I need love for once, no just sex or orgasms. Love.

I hung up my phone. I walked over to the window.

Cassidee grinned at me, her perfect teeth shining.

"Here's to the past." I whispered with a tiny smile.

And I had been correct.

A blackberry cannot survive 60 stories.

I poked my head in the little Café on Spring Street and glanced around. Behind the counter stood a dancer working quickly and diligently on a cup of coffee, his hair tied back, his apron in a little knot around his waist.

I walked in and up to the counter, sliding a chair out and plopping down.

"Waiter? Coffee please. Decaf. Two sugars. And maybe you could do that cute thing with the whipped cream?" I asked quietly, watching as Kayden turned around and beamed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, handing the guy beside me his coffee and turning to me.

"Ordering a coffee. Damn waiter takes forever, too." I joked.

He laughed quietly, rolling his eyes at me. "What do you want, Dev?"

I dropped the menu I'd been pretending to read and smiled at him. "Come to dinner with me tonight. 7:00."

He eyed me warily.

"What? Are you afraid of being seen with me? It's the scene hair, isn't it?" I laughed.

His grin was infectious. "So... like a date then?" he mumbled.

I shrugged, offering a tiny smile. "More like... getting to know you."

His tiny smirk traveled all the way to his hazel eyes. "Be here at seven."

I wrapped my leather jacket around me a little bit tighter. On the West Coast, September wouldn't be cold. Here, however, I was in three layers and skinny jeans I'd stolen from Cass.

He was waiting outside the café, on a curb. He looked perfect sitting there, his hair falling around his face in little light brown locks, messy and cute. His coat was long and tan, a long green plaid scarf hung around his throat, his black v-neck was barely visible beneath it.

"Hey." I mumbled, watching him stand up.

"Your late." He scowled, the funny face soon being replaced by a warm smile.

"Fashionably."

"Annoyingly."

"Shut up. I'm paying for dinner." I scoffed, sticking out my tongue at him playfully. With that we started down the street, chatting quietly, our hands finding each other in the dark. His smile was ever-present as we talked about small things, the ballet, the news, the traffic.

"So..." he asked shyly, watching his feet on the concrete. I noticed he was avoiding the cracks. "Why did you ask me out tonight?"

"Getting to know you." I shrugged.

"Hm... What do you want to know?"

"Everything." I breathed, not even thinking about how that was going to sound out loud. I looked down at the pavement, my face hot with embarrassment, my sneakers leaving little prints on the fallen leaves.

He didn't say anything, but he smiled, and I swear I saw his cheeks flush with pink. The butterflies in my stomach just wouldn't quit.

"Then I guess we should get started. There is a lot to learn." He said, doing a quick spin to end up walking backwards. His prevision and grace left me gaping. He extended his hand to me.

"My name is Kayden Spark. 22 years old. I am 5'10, 160 pounds. I speak fluent French. My mothers name is Kayla, and my father is Colton. I am a dancer from Burlington, Vermont, where I was born and raised. I have two sisters, Becca and Dakota. I currently reside in New York, New York, studying dance with an emphasis in ballet. Nice to meet you." He shook my hand with a tiny smile.

I cleared my throat and grinned. "My name is Devon Davis. 20 years old. 5'10, 140 pounds. I am a pianist from Long Beach, California. Forever a child, and terrified of the future. My mothers name is Isabella, passed away 6-4-04. My favorite color is green, and I'm still afraid of the dark. The closest thing I have to a sister is Cassidee Morales, my pixie with purple hair. Nice to meet you, Kayden."

This time, instead of taking my hand, he leaned close and found my lips with his own. The taste was so sweet and wonderful, and his hands on my face and around waist felt amazing. For a minute, I forgot Gavin, I forgot Lucas, and it was just me and him.

The only thought in my mind surprised me. He is perfect.