Staying True - A Contemporary Romance Novel Read Online Free Page A

who could morph into someone capable of
bringing myself to orgasm on a dance floor.
    Jessica turned life into a party.
Everyone loved her. My parents couldn’t invite her for enough homemade pasta
dinners. My sister, Sasha, debated with her on everything, which meant she
admired her. My friends hated whenever she didn’t tag along for our happy
hours. My college clubs demanded she join us. Jessica knew how to stir up life
and get it rolling in no other direction than that of fun. Smiles followed her.
Laughter erupted around her. Sweet alcohol flowed in her presence like a
cascading waterfall.
    I adored her. Life couldn’t get any
better.
    Then one night, we were sitting in
her car staring out over the horizon at a full moon, and she just started bawling.
I begged her to tell me why. She just buried her face in her hands and bawled
more. Finally, after an hour or so of coaxing, she admitted that she had a
confession to make. She told me about Robby, her boyfriend. “I love him, but
not like I love you,” she said under the cascade of fresh tears. “I broke it
off with him last night, and he didn’t take it well. He begged me to stay
friends. You know how that goes.” She pouted and unleashed more tears. I just
hugged her and reassured her she did the right thing. She agreed.
    “I just feel guilty for hurting him
and for keeping him a secret from you. I just didn’t know how to bring him up
to you and you to him.”
    “I understand,” I said, cradling her
against me, so happy to be on this end of the confession instead of Robby’s. I
pitied the poor guy. I would’ve wanted to jump off a cliff if she ended this
joy ride for me.
    After that confession we grew even
closer. She referred to me as her anchor. People treated her like a celebrity
of sorts. Small films contracted her to work with them. She appeared in
commercials for local cable channels. She even hung out with some of the
players for the local professional women’s basketball team because one of them
opened up a Burlesque club, and Jessica headlined it. People flocked to get a
sight of her, my girlfriend, the woman who would whisper into my ear, “You look
beautiful, my Butterfly.” I would melt at this nickname each time.
    Activity filled every moment of her
day, and to keep that smile blazing like it did, she relied on me to take care
of the “business” end of things: to pick out her clothes, to prepare nutritious
snacks and meals, and to motivate her to exercise and rest in between her wild
romps at the clubs.
    Without me, she would have fallen
victim to the abuse of such a demanding life. She needed me. I loved being
needed. Being needed by her was my elixir. It breathed life into my day.
    Jessica treated me like a princess.
She treated me to Tiffany jewelry, to gorgeous artwork, to romantic dinners,
and to a life where she wanted to show off my knack for things like public
speaking at social events, for negotiation skills, and for my sense of style.
    We shared a sweet spot for each
other. This sweet spot swaddled us in the kind of love where no words needed to
be spoken. Back in the early days, I would look into Jessica’s eyes and get
lost in them. This woman loved me so much more than Sasha’s fiancé loved her.
This woman placed me on a pedestal higher than the one my father placed my
mother on. I became that woman she looked at and whispered into the deepest
recesses of a winter’s night, “You’re the love of my life.”
    I loved this moment of our
relationship. I would’ve done anything to keep it intact. Whatever she wanted,
I would’ve done. In our early days I learned that Jessica loved to drink.
Alcohol livened up her spirit like nothing else. She smiled, laughed, and added
charm to a room when sipping on alcohol.
    She claimed to have her drinking
under control. As we started to become more serious, I’d ask her straight out
why she needed to drink so much. She laughed this off saying she didn’t need
it. She just enjoyed the