Page 50 of Tainted Love

I press my mouth against his. He responds eagerly, his warm and soft lips gently coaxing mine open with the swipe of his tongue. The intensity is present immediately. There’s no halfway point—it’s all or nothing.

He probes my mouth with his tongue, tightening his grip on my hips almost to the point of pain. He sucks on my lower lip as he spins and lifts me up on the counter, knocking the plate onto the floor with a crash.

Neither of us is ready to break the moment as his lips move from mine down to the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. He kisses me there and sucks the area lightly, causing me to throw my head back and moan, drawing him in further as my legs wrap around his waist.

“Is everything okay down there, Bug?” my mom yells from the top of the stairs.

Her voice pulls us from our bubble, and I pull away, breathing heavily. My hands are still itching to tug on the blond strands of his hair.

“Can I come to your room tonight?” he asks breathlessly.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and manage to grasp a moment of clarity. “Not tonight. It’s not a good idea.”

He looks disappointed but nods, grasping my hips and helping me off the counter. As I turn to leave the room, he reaches out and grabs my wrist to stop me. “You opened the door, Sascha,” he says huskily. “I won’t let you close it again.”

Chapter 21

“Major Tom (Coming Home)”

Sascha - Age 18, 1988

I’m dressed in a little black dress with a white collar. I’ve paired it with fishnet stockings and my Doc Martens. I feel like a sexy Wednesday Addams as I get set up for our performance tonight.

The end-of-year recital is the pinnacle of our year, the grand finale that we’ve been working toward for months. Yes, we play at football games and other small events, but this is just for us.

Despite our hard work, it’s no secret that our recitals are only attended by dutiful parents and proud grandparents. But to me, it matters—a chance to showcase our passion and dedication. I first picked up the flute at age nine, so this is the culmination of many years of dedication. Tonight is especially important for us seniors, who will likely never get a chance to perform like this again.

My parents sit in the bleachers, their faces alive with pride and happiness. My dad’s hands tightly grip a bouquet of blood-red roses, a tradition he has faithfully kept for every recital since my very first performance.

As I think about our small family traditions, I can’t help but be reminded of Michael and how he never had these same memories or experiences. A sense of melancholy washes over me, but it’s wiped away almost immediately by the sound of laughter rumbling into the space.

With a burst of energy and laughter, Michael, Corey, Landry, and the rest of the hockey team enter the building. As they stride confidently towards me, Michael's eyes meet mine, and he offers a genuine, warm smile along with a playful wink.

I feel my heart flutter as I realize he orchestrated this because I mentioned how no one bothers to attend these events. He listened to my words and took action. He heard me. I officially give up. My icy exterior is no match for this man. He’s officially won me over with his sense of humor, adoration, devotion to his grandmother, and loyalty to the people he cares about.

The guys stop briefly to say hello to Ivy and Kerri on their way up to the top of the stands, where some room remains.

I don’t miss how Corey looks at Ivy—full of love and amazement. That’s old news, though. What’s really fascinating is the way Landry turns bright red when he says hello to our new friend Kerri. Seems the big guy has a crush. Not that I can fault him for his choice. Kerri hasn’t lived here very long, and she’s already become an important part of our little group.

It couldn’t have been easy moving at the end of her senior year of high school, but she’s doing well here and blending right in. She hasn’t confided in anyone why she moved here when she did, but no one pushes her. It seems we all have our little secrets in this group.

Hailing from somewhere in Texas, she brings a touch of cowgirl charm to our diverse circle.

Talking to her is fascinating. I’ve never known anyone who works so closely with animals and knows how to manage a farm. She’s like a real life Disney Princess with her long strawberry blonde hair and a quiet timidness that only adds to her charm. And her accent is everything. I could listen to her talk about anything with that cute little twang.

Kerri and Ivy have been such a breath of fresh air for me this year. They are both down-to-earth, kind, and untainted by their own beauty. The way the guys stare at them reminds me that I’m not the only one who thinks so.

As the final notes of our introductions fade, we take our places and begin playing our first set with a burst of energy. My fingers fly over my instrument as I pour my heart into “Sweet Caroline” while Sarah’s clarinet wails beautifully from her section. The crowd gets into it, singing along and being especially loud on the “bum, bum, bum” parts.

Looking out at the sea of faces before me, I can see their genuine appreciation for not only the classical pieces but also the more contemporary ones, and I smile as I blow life into my flute. It’s easily the most fun I’ve ever had at a recital.

After the concert, we all gather in the bustling gym foyer, still buzzing with excitement. Landry surprises us by asking Kerri if he can drive her home, to which she agrees. Way to go, Landry.

Corey and Ivy break away from us like the lovebirds they are, leaving just Sarah and me standing there. She decides to head home, and feeling a bit tired myself, I follow suit.

As I make my way out of the building, I’m grateful for this night and how it turned out, which I owe to Michael Tazman. I definitely did not see this coming back in September.

“Sash!” he shouts from behind me. “Are you heading home?”