Chapter 7

KIMBERLY'S POV I sat at the edge of the bed, trying to catch my breath in order to steady myself. My body betrayed me, still humming with remnants of Xavier's touch. My thighs pressed together of their own accord, and a flush crawled up my neck as I reached for my underwear. Wet. I bit into my bottom lip as the fight in my stomach-imbued shame struggling against longing-kicked its way to freedom. I did not despise his touching; I wanted to touch him, his strong hands yet controlled, lips needing but giving with gentleness. One moment stood in passing; to let go and simply give in. Doubt ripped through instead. What if I was one of those passing whims with him? Suppose yielding really does make someone less interesting; probably he would get bored with me when I had ceased playing coy. That would be the ice-water pail being tipped into the fire that would finally douse the whole flame. I'd seen it before, people telling me they wanted me, then changing their minds when I became too available, too familiar. That wasn't going to happen this time. It was not happening with Xavier. But the way he'd looked at me, as though I was the single thing in the world of consequence… It wasn't desire in his eyes as much as it was the rest of it, of which I couldn't catch a name. I flicked the thoughts aside just as my phone buzzed on the nightstand again. I took it, looking on screen. My stomach nosedived. Daniel. I was definitely not in the mood for him now, and it would be like all the other persistent callers- he would ring again. Sighing, I swiped to answer. "What do you want, Daniel?" I growled at the receiver, sweetening nothing in my irritation. "Kimberly," he drawled; even his tone had been jellied with false empathy. "I heard you just got kicked out of the Harrington estate. What a tough break. Now, don't you get worried, I'll come get you.” I rolled my eyes, my fingers tightening on the phone. "I don't need your help." "Oh, come on," he said, his voice so condescending, "You can't seriously think that you are better off alone. I'm offering you a way out, Kimberly, a way back to stability. You belong with me." I laughed, the sound bitter, sharp, and without humor. "I would rather sleep on the street than go anywhere with you.” “Don't be like that,” he said, his voice falling into a warning. “You know I can make things very difficult for you.” “Don't call me again, Daniel,” I said-the edge now in my voice. “I will report you for harassment if you don't leave me alone; you can bet the police will love hearing about your 'difficult' behavior.” There was one of those beats of silence; then he let out a low chuckle. "You're making a mistake, Kimberly. But fine. Have it your way-for now." I hung up before he could utter another word and tossed the phone onto the bed, as if it had burned me. My hands shook a little as I exhaled hard, trying to push the frustration and lingering fear out of my system. Simply said, he was a problem I couldn't afford to handle as I had bigger things in my mind. --- Next morning brought new resolve in me. My mind veered to the National Design Competition the professor told me about.. This can be my chance again-not just to make a name for myself, but also to have a career independent of all ills propagated by my family. I had already emailed my mentor here at the university, Professor Carlisle, and set up an appointment with him. I needed his advice and hopefully his support; this competition may open many doors for me, but most of all for the more important things. The first person ringing in my mind was my old neighbor-aunt Margaret, who brought me up when I was young and neglected by my adoptive parents, considering these funds were desperately required for her medical treatments and were long overdue from me, for which I promised my conscience to help her out. Winning the competition shall provide me with the financial soundness to support her in that respect. Familiar halls almost reminded me of a sort of calmness as, in the morning, I headed off to the University to see Professor Carlisle's office on the second floor, tucked away in some quiet corner of the building; I stepped inside after lightly rapping on the door. “Kimberly!" Professor Carlisle greeted her warmly and motioned to a chair. "It's great seeing you, and I must say that I was just so looking forward to getting your email with this competition inside. What an opportunity it is." I nodded, my fingers playing with the strap of my bag. "It isn't just an opportunity, Professor, it is everything. I need this.” He leaned his head to one side and studied me with his kindly eyes. "You have always been talented, Kimberly. Your designs carry a depth and creativity that set you aside. This, however, is seriously a fierce kind of competition. The judges will be looking for more than skill; they'll be looking for innovation, something that tells behind the work.” "I understand," I said briefly. "I have been working on a new collection, something representative of me and everything that I have gone through. I just need someone to guide me on how to make this shine, stand out most of all." Professor Carlisle leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Tell me more about this collection. What is it about? I stammered a second before answering, "It's about resilience. Of finding strength in vulnerability. I want each piece to tell a story of overcoming, of breaking free from constraint." His face softened then, and he nodded. "That's powerful, Kimberly. And very personal. If you can channel that emotion into your work, you'll have something truly remarkable.” I swallowed, my stomach flipping with hope and nerves. "I have to win, Professor. It is not all about my career. There's someone I have to help, someone depending on me." He leaned further forward, his elbows on the desk. "Then, the motivation is all yours. But remember, Kimberly, do not lose out to pressure. Stay true to your vision. That's what will set you apart.” I nodded, the words filtering in. "Thank you, Professor. I won't disappoint you." "I know you won't," he replied with a slight smile. "Now, let's go through the details of the competition. We shall make sure that you are just as ready as anyone. That was all.” Peculiarities once gone through, by the time it was finished, my person had a new sense of resolve: Yes, competition would indeed be stiff; still, I would try and give as good as I could. I moved from Professor Carlisle's office out into the fall, the wind whipping at my clothes with ideas of my collection. The soft click of my heels against the waxen floor sounded loudly enough in the otherwise silent hall that I took little notice. I was deep enough in thought that it was too late when he caught my eye. "Kimberly." The voice was cold, all too familiar, which made me stop in my tracks. I looked up to find Daniel leaning indolently against the wall, arms across his chest, and with an irritatingly smug grin. "What are you doing here?" I shrilled. He straightened, took one step closer toward me. "You didn't think I'd let you brush me off so easily, did you? Panic bubbled in my chest, but I made myself stand tall. "Leave, Daniel. I have nothing to say to you." "Oh, I think you do," he said, his grin spreading across his face. "We need to talk, Kimberly. And this time, you're not walking away." My pulse quickened as I glanced around-the hallway suddenly a lot narrower. What the hell was he planning?