This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.
LOVE BYTES: Volume 1
By Melissa Wathington
Copyright 2012 ©by Melissa Wathington
ISBN # 9781465960849
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and/or reviews
LOVE BYTES: Volume 1: Tales of Inspiration
Tasty morsels of family togetherness
By Melissa Wathington
MISTLETOE MAGIC
Fate opened the door to a once in a lifetime opportunity—mistletoe hung in the doorway beckoning her and Mr. Right had just crossed the threshold. Brianna Larrie couldn’t believe her luck. But, was she bold enough to make her move? After all this time, she had to go for it or live with regret.
“Hey, Eric, do you believe in holiday traditions?”
His cocoa brown gaze leveled at her, causing butterflies to take flight in her stomach. Eric Smythe possessed a quietly sexy way about him. That silent intangible quality is what drew her to him four months ago. Sitting with her girlfriends in the quad studying chemistry of all things, he crossed the field right in her line of vision. A black t-shirt stretched tightly over his well-defined chest and a washed out pair of Levis encased his muscular legs. With short, straight hair the color of midnight and deep set, penetrating eyes, his movie star looks were turning all the girls’ heads that day. But, it wasn’t his heart stopping good looks that pulled her in. It was the gentleness of his smile when their eyes met.
She hadn’t expected him to look at her twice. Despite the fact that her girlfriends were all jealous of her thick mahogany hair which fell in gentle waves around her shoulders and her doe like hazel eyes which made people take a second look, she knew most people focused on her disability. Due to a congenital condition causing weak muscle development, she wore a thick metal brace on her right leg, causing a noticeable limp when she walked. Many guys weren’t able to look past it to see anything else she had to offer, like her wacky sense of humor and her compassionate nature, so she got used to spending her weekends at home and at church, only going out occasionally with girlfriends.
But, that day Eric approached her, asking her to lunch. They spent the hour talking about their families and school while eating, surprised with how comfortable they were with each other. That day turned into many more and Brianna was blown away by the special way he continued to treat her, bringing her flowers, walking her to class. They spent time exploring museums and going to movies on the weekends. She noted how he slowed his stride whenever they were together and how he picked her up at the door to make things easier for her. They talked about her brace once but never did he make her feel awkward or out of place. His quiet acceptance made her feel more confident, more alive.
However, they were just friends and Brianna wanted more. There were times when she physically fought the urge to plant a kiss on him, awakening him from “his big brother” behavior. Most of her girlfriends assumed they were a couple and she never told them otherwise, hoping one day their platonic friendship might move to the next level. Tonight they were studying together and Brianna enjoyed these times most of all, when they could just talk and be together. In the moment he paused in the doorway, she made the bold decision to step out on faith. She knew he cared about her--what was the worst thing that could happen? She swallowed hard, realizing he could very well break her heart.
“I believe in some of them. I wrote to Santa Claus faithfully for eight years. The year I turned nine, I caught my father putting my new ten speed under the tree and my bubble burst.” He chuckled at the memory and Brianna smiled, picturing the adorable crestfallen youth he must’ve been.
“Well, I was talking about the mistletoe tradition,” she said as she pointed above his head. God, what would he say? All the butterflies took flight once more.
Eric looked up and then back at her. His expression was so serious that a pit of dread started to form. The thought of kissing her revolted him, she just knew it. She turned away, as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. Well, she had gambled and lost--not for the first time but certainly for the last. She couldn’t put her heart on the line anymore. It hurt too much.
Suddenly, she felt his hands on her shoulders and his breath in her hair. She trembled at his touch. He whispered something but she couldn’t make out the words.
“What… did you say?” she asked breathlessly.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting for a sign from you for so long.” That said, he spun her around and lowered his lips to hers. The magic of the moment washed over her as the kiss deepened. Finally, they drew apart and he held her close.
“You are one special lady, Brianna Larson, and I want you to be mine. What do you say?,” he inquired, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Drowning in his loving gaze, she smiled. “I say Santa is going to get a big thank you from me this year.” They laughed as he drew her in to another kiss.
SISTER LOST, SISTER FOUND
The ominous thoughts plagued me day and night. No matter what I was doing or where I was at. Out of nowhere, the gloom would take over and I couldn’t shake it off. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, my heart pounding, seeing no other way out. Those feelings lead me right here to Looksforth’s Bridge. The inky black water swirled below, beckoning me as I gazed out into the night enveloping me. Thick, billowing storm clouds were moving in and lightning streaked through the sky in the distance. I found it hard to take a deep breath, the air was so heavy with mist but it seemed strangely appropriate. The darkness of the night equaled the darkness traveling through my soul. Or should I say where my soul once was.
Not really noticeable in the dimness, I leaned over the railing, my fingers wrapped tightly around the cold gray steel. I wore my black suede coat purposefully to help me blend in with the night sky. Not that anyone was around— I was completely alone. Sighing, I knew there was nothing left to do but this. Otherwise, I’d have to wake up to the aching existence I called life one more day. Giving up had never been an option until now. I wanted the pain to stop.
How did I end up here? What happened to my life? It had been stolen from me in mere seconds and there was no going back. Placing one foot on the rung of the railing, I leaned forward, looking down at the water. How would it feel? Not like my heated pool at home that was certain. I didn’t really know how to swim, floating was the best I could do. Water signified peace and tranquility to me so it seemed like the right place. The specifics of the deed hadn’t seemed so important when I started out. Again I glanced down, watching the rhythmic movement of the waves. Not so tranquil right now. Swallowing hard, I leaned my head against the grating of the bridge.
Wouldn’t everyone be shocked to see me now? Krystal Johnson, the popular, successful television journalist from the nation’s top rated news magazine standing all alone on a bridge that stretched out for two full miles contemplating such an irrevocable move. Why, they would ask. From the outside it seemed I had everything most people wanted—fame, money, and success. A spacious mansion, a gold Jaguar, and Versace originals pouring out of my closet and it didn’t matter. None of it meant anything to me. Wealth and material possessions were trappings. Trappings I desperately wanted to get out from under.
Sure, there had been a time when “Krystal Johnson” was the best dressed, most together sister out there. With my cocoa brown almond shaped eyes and wide smile, I used my looks to my advantage. I knew how to command attention, whether it was with a toss of my waist length ebony hair or the swing of my generous hips as I walked. Talk about working a room, I did it with finesse and loved every minute of it. I often made every man in a room do a double take.
Having developed a thick skin making the way up the ladder in my field, I possessed a tenacity and desire to succeed that pushed me farther than I ever thought I’d go in the field. The people involved in the dramas I found myself reporting about often commented that I was sensitive to their needs and compassionate— the ability to get straight to the heart of each story is what mattered to me. It’s those qualities that earned me the reputation of being “the journalist with a heart.” Indeed a rarity on the news front, I worked hard to create a niche that brought the viewers in. They followed my swift rise to stardom faithfully from the early days at KJBC handling local news to #1 anchor of the nationally syndicated Newsline Live. The journey took less than five years and no one was more surprised about it than me.
People stopped me on the streets all the time, surprised to see me out among them. “Aren’t you Krystal Johnson from Live?” they asked and I’d smile, signing an autograph or two. Of course, I went to the doctors and grocery shopping; I had to eat, didn’t I? Being in the spotlight took some adjustment but I tried to be as understanding as I could be. After all, this was what I opened myself up for: swimming in a public fish bowl with everyone peeking in.
Feeling the breeze rise off of the river, I couldn’t seem to recall the last time a request from a fan made me feel proud or satisfied with the work I was doing. Interviewing children who had murdered their parents or covering the burning of African American churches in the South left a sick feeling in my stomach and a sour taste in my mouth. The world was turning into such a violent, cruel place that reporting on it depressed me further. My boss suggested I take a month long vacation and my boyfriend James was pressing me to go to Hawaii with him. But, neither idea sounded appealing to be honest. All I wanted was to be left alone.
It was when I was alone, the thoughts kept me company. They haunted me until I no longer had the strength to fight them, the voices speaking to me, whispering in my ear. I knew what I had to do. Stopping the pain became the only thing I cared about; stopping the horrible ache of missing my sister, which I did, unbearably.
Never in my life was Karla not around. Having been born only two minutes earlier, Karla was the ultimate big sister, a combination of protector and best friend. An unbeatable team we were—Karla and Krystal or K&K, as our friends tagged us growing up. Identical in looks, we often fooled people. Though there were a select few who knew us apart if they spied the tiny crescent shaped burn on the side of Karla’s face near her hairline. When we were fourteen, I accidentally branded her with a curling iron, trying to make her hair curl like old school Mariah Carey.
We did everything as one, from living together to working together. Karla served as head writer and associate producer of Live and made sure the well oiled machine performed flawlessly each and every day. Our choice to both pursue media related fields didn’t come as a surprise and we worked well side by side, with Karla writing behind the scenes and me in front of the cameras, bringing the work to life. Like many twins, we were a unit. We’d often finish each other’s sentences. I was the energetic, impulsive, go-get em’ girl, while Karla was more steadfast and analytical, approaching each new experience with caution. The bond between us was absolute and complete—completely unbreakable. Or so we thought.
Seeing headlights shining in the distance, I watched as they moved closer and became brighter. My breath caught. Would the driver be able to see me? I crouched down behind a thick iron girder as a banged up old pickup truck drove past. Singing his heart out as if he were performing onstage, the man behind the wheel of the Ford never took his eyes off the stretch of road in front of him. Fear battled the sadness inside of me as I stepped out of my hiding place, returning to the railing. Could I really go through with this? Could I not? Merely existing day to day was no way to live. Shivering lightly, I thought back to the day when the world had stopped spinning.
That cold, dreary day in November, I came home early from the station. Entering the foyer of the house usually gave me an exhilarated feeling; I still had to pinch myself some days as a reminder this was really my home. Not today, though. I was tired, stressed out and longed for a hot bath and a stiff martini. Going straight to the entertainment room, making a beeline for the bar, I found James stretched out on the black leather couch we purchased the week before. I always wanted one, with cup holders in the armrest and a built in fridge between the two seating areas.
“Hey, honey” I said, as I bent over to press a firm kiss on his full lips. “How was your day?”
“Obviously better than yours,” he replied as he watched me walk to the well stocked bar and pour a shot of vodka in a substantial size glass. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?”
“If you knew what kind of day I’ve had, you wouldn’t be asking me that.” Taking a healthy swallow, I breathed a sigh of relief as the cool clear liquid traveled quickly down my throat, cooling one fire while creating another. Drinking wasn’t something I normally did but today, well, I had to. “Have you been here long?”
“About an hour. I thought I’d take you out to dinner and celebrate your latest magazine cover,” he said, smiling widely, giving me a peek of those gorgeous white teeth. It was one of the main things that drew me to him. I had a thing for men who had nice teeth. His hunky six foot frame, soulful Taye Diggs eyes, and generous, kind-hearted soul were simple afterthoughts. He approached me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m proud of you, baby. You really are doing your thing.”
I leaned into him, grateful for his embrace. James had a way of making me feel so safe. And I needed that because for some strange reason, I felt so off balance today. “I love you,” I whispered as our lips met and clung. It took mere moments for him to take complete control of the kiss, his mouth taking mine with sudden passion. By the time we parted, I was breathless. “Wow! You really do that quite well, Mr. Wilson. Hey, have you heard from Karla yet?”
“Oh, I must be good if I’m making you think of your sister.” He laughed as I hit his arm playfully. “No, she hasn’t called since I’ve been here. Maybe she left a message. Isn’t she supposed to be having dinner with Kevin tonight?”
Kevin Bennett was the love of my sister’s life. They met over two years ago at the studio where he came to deliver a dozen yellow roses to one of the associate directors. However, the minute he spotted Karla standing at the reception desk in a white halter dress and 4 inch red heels, retrieving her messages, Kevin stuck the card from the arrangement in his pocket and presented the flowers to Karla. She said the minute their eyes met, she fell in love with him, which was a good thing for him because he got fired from the courier service the next day for not delivering the roses. It ended up being a blessing in disguise, though, because losing his job spurred him to pursue his dream and open his own successful dry cleaning business.
He was at our house almost as much as James and the four of us had grown quite close. We double dated all the time and I loved nothing more than spending the evening with my sister and my two favorite guys.
Shaking my head, I headed towards the kitchen. “Well, that’s what he told me but I don’t know if she knows. It sounds like he’s planning a surprise but she said she had news to tell me. I wonder where she is because she left the studio before me.” A thought suddenly struck me and I smiled. “I’m going to put on a pot of tea. That’s how we used to always share exciting news when we were younger.”