Chrissy stared at me for a few seconds and then she leaned forward. I wasn’t even sure what she was doing at first—then I felt her lips land on mine. I was so caught off guard that I didn’t really return the kiss. I was just kind of shocked. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a desire to do it—I had certainly thought it, I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen when it did. She quickly realized it was one-sided and pulled back with a look of horror on her face. Her eyes bulged and she pulled away from my embrace.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that…” She ran towards the stairs before I could react.
“Chrissy, wait…” I stood up and started walking after her. “It’s okay, we can talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk. I just—I’m sorry.” She to the top of the stairs and I heard her bedroom door slam shut.
And—here come the complications.
7
Chrissy
I literally wanted to curl up in a ball and die. I don’t know why I kissed Greyson. I was just—so overcome with emotions that I reacted to the moment. I thought something was developing, but I was clearly mis
reading the situation. I thought his playfulness and willingness to actually spank me was because he felt the same way I did—obviously I was wrong. The spanking didn’t make me cry, but the embarrassment certainly did. I grabbed my pillow, squeezed it against my chest, and started to bawl like I was a little girl that had just found out her crush thought she was ugly. Every emotion went through my head in an instant, colliding together and creating the perfect storm for a tsunami of tears.
“Chrissy, please don’t hide in there. Let’s talk about this…” Greyson tapped on my door.
“Please—please just leave alone. I can’t—I just can’t right now.” I buried my face in my pillow so that he wouldn’t hear the sob that followed my words.
“Okay. If you want to talk, I’ll be downstairs…” He tapped my door a couple more times.
I listened until I heard Greyson’s footsteps on the stairs before I pulled my face away from my pillow. I felt like a foolish child—a foolish child that fell for my father’s best friend because I believed that he could be my Daddy. It was a complicated disaster and I made it worse by kissing him. I did need the spanking. It was an emotional release and even though I could still feel the sting, I didn’t regret letting him put me over his knee—it was what came afterward that filled me with regret. I could have had something—something I truly needed—and I let desire cloud what I had until I was staring at the face of a man who clearly didn’t want to be kissed by me.
How did I misread that?
It was the first time I had ever initiated a kiss and would probably be the last. I understood some of my confusion. Being across Greyson’s knee wasn’t just purely about discipline. It made me wet—my panties were soaked. It was the hottest, most sexually charged moment of my life—but he wasn’t a willing participant in that fantasy. He was just giving me a spanking. He didn’t mean to lead me on—I had to accept that. He couldn’t help that he was hot-as-sin and looking at him made me think dirty thoughts.
At the end of the day, I was just a child that he was looking after. The sooner I came to terms with that, the easier it would be. It also confirmed that I needed to start looking for a job as soon as I got my car privileges back—because I needed to move out of his house as soon as possible after making the environment as awkward as humanly possible. The tears stopped coming after a couple of hours, but I still felt sick to my stomach. I just lay in my bed and stared at the wall as time ticked by. The rest of the day was gone when I finally heard Greyson’s footsteps on the stairs again—and they made the sick feeling in my stomach twist into a knot.
“Dinner is ready.” Greyson tapped on my door. “You need to eat something.”
“I don’t want to eat. I’m not hungry.” I shook my head back and forth even though he couldn’t see me.
“I’ll leave a plate in the microwave for you. You can go downstairs and eat after I go to bed if you get hungry…” He walked away from my door and I heard him walking back down the stairs.
I guess he still intends to feed me. Hopefully he’s not rethinking his offer to let me stay here—I don’t want one kiss to send me all the way back to Chicago when I’m so close to realizing my dreams.
I stared at the wall until I heard Greyson’s door close. I wasn’t really hungry, but I was aware of the need to eat something. I had a light lunch and I had worked all of that out of my system in tears. I walked downstairs and found the plate of food right where he said it would be. I microwaved it to at least get it warm again and then carried it to the table. In the middle of the table—was a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I was scared to read it. It could be anything from a letter expressing his disappointment to an eviction notice. I put down my plate of food and pulled my chair out. My curiosity wasn’t going to allow me to just leave the letter where it was. I had to read it. My hands trembled as I reached over and picked it up—but I fought against the shaking to open it.
Dear Chrissy,
Samuel Banks was my best friend in the whole world. I made him a promise. I promised him that I would always look after his family. I’ve told you the good parts of his life and I’ve sugar coated a lot of it. You deserve to know the man he was when he was great and not the one that lost the fight with his demons. That man—the great man—was the one who cried when he held you the day you were born. He was the one I swore an oath to.
What happened today wasn’t your fault. All of the blame should be on my shoulders. I had a responsibility and I neglected it. You’re a beautiful girl and I get lost in those sky-blue eye sometimes—how they shimmer when you laugh. Sometimes it’s really hard for me to remind myself that you’re still Sam’s daughter, because you’re certainly not the little girl you were when I left Chicago. I let temptation get the better of me and that was a mistake. I confused you and I regret that. It’s—so complicated. I like you. I like you way more than I should.
I don’t want things to be awkward between us, but we’ve crossed a line. Hell, I can’t even see it anymore, so we have to draw a new one. If you’re worried that I’m going to kick you out, it hasn’t even crossed my mind. I would do anything for your family and one awkward moment doesn’t change the promise I made. I hope that we find a way to move past it, but this house is big enough for us to never see each other if that makes it easier. Even if we don’t avoid each other entirely, we have to stay on opposite sides of the line. I’ll do my part to make sure that happens. I’m sorry it has come to this, but I think you’ll eventually see that it needs to be this way.
-Greyson
I was in tears when I finished Greyson’s letter, but I wiped them away so I could read it again. My eyes absorbed the words, but my brain was struggling to process everything. I wasn’t wrong. Greyson did like me—it wasn’t entirely one-sided. He was conflicted and I could understand that. I certainly had been—since the moment I moved in. His letter was meant to be the nail in the coffin of whatever we could have had. I didn’t have a choice or a say in the matter—I just had to accept it. I ate my food and walked back upstairs. I didn’t feel the need to cry. I was just kind of numb inside. All of the crying had left me emotionally spent, so when my head finally did hit the pillow, I was out.
The next morning
I didn’t sleep as long as normal, but it was a dark, dreamless slumber. I woke up before the sun was actually up. I rolled over on my side and saw Greyson’s letter next to my bed. I read it one more time before I climbed out of bed and stretched my muscles. My thoughts were in turmoil. I didn’t want to let go of what I had with Greyson. The kiss wasn’t a mistake—it was just resisted because he was conflicted. My thoughts started to surge. Was there any way to save what we had? Could I head him off before he finished drawing the line he talked about? I had to try. There was no guarantee that I would be successful, but I couldn’t give up without fighting to save it.
I peeked out my door and confirmed that he was still in his room. The downstairs was dark, and he would have turned on a light if he was already up. When I wallowed in my misery the day before, I convinced myself that there was no hope for us because things were one-sided. I knew that wasn’t the case anymore. That gave me enough hope to walk down the stairs—grab a piece of paper—and sit down at the dining room table. I knew what I wanted to say, I just needed to find a way to put it into words.