Page 1 of Kentucky on the Rocks

Prologue

A moment is a specific point in time. Life is full of moments both significant and insignificant, all of which are happening right now. Decisions made in the span of a single moment set into motion every related event that follows. It could be as simple as smiling at a handsome stranger or ignoring him, not knowing that he could have been the love of your life. Saying yes to something you wouldn’t ordinarily agree to, or learning to say no because it isn’t who you are. Understanding that the way you see yourself will shape the way others see you in return. It takes courage to be you. To open your heart not knowing if that love would be returned as freely as it was given. To discover who you really are and accept that you are enough. To believe that extraordinary is possible. To take control of your destiny. To just concentrate on your moments.

My favorite moment was when his lips first touched mine.

Chapter One

Derek Vaughn was my addiction. I thought he was funny, sweet, and extremely hot. He was an ultimate athlete with a body made to worship. Tall and lean, every inch of him pure muscle from his wide chest to his tight abs, but my favorite thing was his long, muscular arms. He was a star on the university swim team. I loved his wild, thick, curly dark hair and the way it flopped around his forehead and ears with every movement. His warm chocolate-brown eyes were enough to make me want to melt into a delicious puddle of pure bliss. I’d developed a habit of looking for him all around campus. Sometimes I’d find him at the coffee shop, the library, or in passing between classes. I began to obsess over him a little, well a lot, actually.

Natalie, my college roommate, had been dating a guy on the swim team, and I’d convinced her to let me tag along with her to watch swim practices and cheer at swim meets. And while she remained a supportive girlfriend, she made no secret to me that she thought my behavior was borderline stalking.

One night I’d gathered the nerve to talk to him at a party. We were standing next to each other—and not by accident—in a small circle talking. I made what I thought was a funny reference to an old television show, and Derek was the only person to get my joke. He nudged me playfully with his elbow and threw his head back and laughed. I stood there grinning back at him like a loon. He’d finally noticed me, and I was in heaven.

We hung out together for the rest of the night. He asked for my number, which I gave to him instantly, but he didn’t call. Not the next day or even the next week. I looked for him around campus but never managed to catch him in his usual spots. Just when I’d decided to give up waiting for my phone to ring, he surfaced one night. Natalie had just broken up with her swimmer boyfriend, and it was the reason we were all out. She said she needed a girls’ night out, but we all knew what she really meant was “I hate my ex so let’s go out to a place he frequents so I can bump into him on purpose and show him just what he’s missing out on.”

I was surprised to find Derek there with his friends. One of them happened to be Natalie’s ex, Sam. We spent most of the night avoiding Derek’s group for obvious reasons. I sat there trying my best to not look his way, instead focusing on the amusing drama Natalie was creating by pretending to be drunk and hanging all over every guy that was within reach. Finally, Sam couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed Natalie’s hand and pulled her out of the club. She gave a half-hearted effort of protest and barely managed to conceal her triumphant smirk as they rounded the corner together and disappeared.

Eventually, Derek approached me and apologized for not calling. He said something about having problems with his phone, blah, blah, blah. I tried to act cool about it and even pretended that I didn’t remember that he was supposed to call me. Stupid, I know. He seemed visibly relieved that I didn’t give him a hard time.

We were sitting at the bar taking shots together. In an effort to be a gentleman, Derek let me pick the first round, so I chose kamikazes, and for the second round he chose Jack Daniel’s. I was even cool about that too, though I’d never had whiskey before. It burned like a son of a bitch, but I handled it like a champ.

When the effects of the shots started to warm my body, I couldn’t resist bobbing up and down while “One More Time” by Daft Punk played loudly over the speakers. Derek instantly grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor. After turning myself in order to get into a basic grind position with my back to his front, he stopped me by placing his hand on my hip to still my movements, then mumbled bashfully that he wasn’t very good at dancing like that. Instead, he took me by the hand and proceeded to twirl me around. It was the most fun I’d ever had.

He and I spun together on the floor, oblivious to other people around us. Stepping together, then apart. Twisting around each other, fingers entwined. I couldn’t resist giggling when he lowered me into occasional dips. When the song’s tempo slowed, he wrapped me in his arms from behind and we swayed from side to side, his warm breath brushing the side of my neck as I inhaled in his clean scent. Then when the tempo picked back up, he spun me out and away from him again in time to the music.

We laughed and stepped on each other’s toes as we moved to the beat. We might have looked like the biggest cornballs to onlookers, but I felt like the luckiest girl on earth. The way his beautiful eyes were smiling down at me, the sexy way he bit his bottom lip as he moved, and the way his arms felt wrapped around my waist all felt like a dream.

That was the moment I’d fallen in love with him.

At the end of the night, he kissed me and promised to call the next day, and he did. We went out to dinner that evening and spent the night together. I guess it was safe to say I was pretty easy where Derek was concerned. He didn’t have to work very hard to make me his.

Over the following months, we continued to see each other, though we never defined it as an exclusive relationship. I couldn’t even think of anyone else. Derek Vaughn was my world, and I couldn’t believe that I was with him.

He was also a notorious flirt. I soon realized the sexy grins and suggestive comments weren’t just for me. He had a roaming eye but was really good at making everything seem innocent and playful. I was willing to overlook the nagging s

uspicions of other girls, since he seemed to be into me when we were together. It didn’t matter whether we were hanging out with friends, at a nightclub, or swim meet after-parties; he kissed me openly and made out with me in front of everyone, no matter the place.

He’d often say to me, “You’re a cool girl, JoJo. A real cool girl, you know that?” after laughing at something fun we’d just done together or a crazy comment I used to impress him. My brain was constantly firing as I thought of ways to remain the “cool girl” he thought I was. It made me giddy the first time he’d shortened my name from Josette to JoJo. I’d never had a nickname, and I loved that my first one belonged exclusively to him.

Sex with Derek was the best I’d ever had, although my experience up until that point was very limited. I tried to be the best sex he’d ever had too by being up for anything, anywhere and anytime. Bathroom sex, car sex, closet sex, Ferris wheel sex, pool sex—both kinds, in the water and on the table.

In other efforts to maintain my cool status, I even drank Jack Daniel’s whenever I was out with him. I never made any demands. I didn’t get upset if he didn’t call for days at a time. Somehow in my mind I’d made it okay, because when we were together things were amazing. Basically, I never told him no because I didn’t want to seem “uncool.”

After a year of undefined dating, I’d questioned him about his feelings toward me, and of course, Derek remained evasive and wouldn’t give me anything solid.

“Come on, babe. You’re with me. My JoJo.”

This was pretty much his standard answer before he proceeded to remove my clothes and use his body to make me forget my questions. I was hopelessly in love with him but never could bring myself to tell him for fear that he wouldn’t return the sentiment. I felt he had the ability to complete me or completely shatter me.

So I didn’t push.

Derek graduated a year ahead of me and took a job in Louisville with his uncle’s investment firm. The distance made things even more difficult between us. I tried to visit him as much as I could, but it became too difficult with my school schedule. He never came right out and admitted to it, but I felt pretty sure he was sleeping with someone else.

So what did I do instead of being insanely upset and racing to Louisville to confront him? I tried to remain “cool” by letting him off the hook. I blamed my busy schedule and pointed out how unfair I was being to him. Telling him how he deserved a girl in the same city as him, someone he could see anytime he wanted. I suggested that we “hook up” the next time he was in town if he wanted to “hang out.” His response?

“Sure, that’d be cool, JoJo.”

I cried for three days straight. I never left my room, didn’t shower, didn’t change clothes. I wore one of Derek’s oversized hooded sweatshirts and refused to take it off. If it wasn’t for Natalie forcing me to, I don’t think I would have eaten or drank anything either.

By the fourth day, I was dragged into a cold shower by my friends and heavily doused with body wash and shampoo, with my clothes still on. I was able to finish out the year and graduate. Derek would text me occasionally but never made it back to visit. I preferred it that way because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him and not completely revert to basket case status. It got easier to deal with our break up as time went on, and I was able to reach what I felt was a good healing stage. My heart still skipped a beat every time his name was mentioned, but I didn’t want to burst into tears anymore.

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