Page 72 of Lust
Our eyes clashed, my fingers lingering over her heated skin that felt like molten lava under my touch. I was suddenly aware that although we had detangled, neither of us had taken a step back, nor did I want to.
Instead, I voluntarily drowned in her sea of crystal orbs glistening with unshed tears. My fingers hovered over her fiery hot skin. Sara’s curious pupils moved to the corner of her eye to follow the circular motion made by the pad of my thumb.
Abruptly, I dropped my hand, turning my head sideways to cough. Dismissing the stubborn thoughts in my brain, I took a step back.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I commented. It’s the other reason I hadn’t expected the ‘unknown girl’ to be Sara. It was a school day.
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Hmm. How come you aren’t in school?”
“It’s senior skip-day, dufus.”
“You’re not a senior,” I pointed out.
“And you are supposed to visit more than once every two years.”
“Touché.” I smiled at my worthy opponent. For two years, our pranks had to be limited to mail and long-distance efforts—prank calls, fake letter notices, etc. We had a plethora of real-life tricks to catch up on. “Where are the parents?”
“Inside. Come!” she sang, dragging me by the hand.
As we entered through the large wooden doors of our not-so-humble abode, Sara talked my ears off with the new developments I had missed. When I noticed the gentle sway of her hips, I hastily averted my eyes until we walked into the main foyer. By that time, I had learned of all the girls Mom had planned on setting me up with (Lilith was the front runner), the colleges Sara had visited, and everything there was to know about the Kardashians.
“Tristan!” Ragu and Mary called out in unison from the top of the staircases.
“Mom. Ragu,” I politely greeted the duo.
“Oh, honey. I can’t believe it. You are home,” Mom gushed, her voice cracking from emotion. She sprinted down the steps and charged toward me.
Raguel remained on top of the staircases. His eyes darted to my fingers that were entwined with Sara’s. It was innocent enough, so perhaps I was subconsciously conjuring up a disapproving look. All the same, I retracted my hand, though Sara remained blissfully oblivious.
Mom engulfed me in a hug. “It’s so good to have you home.”
“How are you, Mom?” I asked, patting her twice on the back.
“I’m good, baby.”
“Welcome home, son,” Ragu added, joining us downstairs to shake my hand. “I can’t believe the whole family is back together,” he added pointedly.
Rubbing the back of my neck with a hand, I said, “Guess it’s been a while.”
I finished with the last of my law school classes this week. Now, all I had to do was follow the blueprint laid out by Dad. The plan had been to attend law school in South Carolina so I’d get the residency status needed to run for that state’s Congress. My campaign rested on the next generation and moral fortitude. For too long, politics had been ruled by old men who were out of touch. They were constantly involved in scandals and preaching what they didn’t practice.
I wanted to represent something new—a young candidate with an impeccable reputation representing the interests of the upcoming generation.
I didn’t come home for two years because I lived, breathed, and ate that motto. I had worked on every do-gooder project to build a base with the younger demographic of South Carolina and was practically a shoo-in for Congress.
However, I also had a small network in the DC and Virginia areas. Mom and Ragu wanted me to campaign here to become a congressman for Virginia. If I heeded their advice, I’d have to wait to first maintain residency in Virginia and build rapport, all of which would take more time. Not to mention, Virginia was much too competitive for a first-time congressional ballot.
“Tris, did you decide about congress?” Mom asked.
“Yeah.”
“So? Where do you want to run, South Carolina or Virginia?” She held her breath.
My choices were laid forth for me.
Return to South Carolina after this short visit and win the upcoming election in a landslide. The downfall? Continue living eight hours away.
