The Count's Princess (Completed)

Dinner at the Beach

His breath in my ear was heart-leaping. A chill went up my spine and dispersed throughout every nerve in my body. My stomach was tightening and I was becoming more and more stiff in my chair.

Once the performance was over, I found myself still sitting as Carmichael leaped out of his seat.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

"Uh, sure," I got out of my sticky chair and followed my date out.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Oh, I don't know," I responded as I climbed into Carmichael's car. He shut my door and walked over to the driver's side. Once he climbed in he turned to me and told me he was going to take me to an all American restaurant. He was good. Too good. Most guys would think a woman likes Italian or French cuisine. Not me, I enjoyed a greasy hamburger.

He asked me about the different pieces performed and asked if I knew anyone of them. I told him I did and asked which one was his favorite. We talked until I found ourselves in front of a small pizza parlor.

"What time is it?" Carmichael looked at his watch and I looked at my phone. It was already 10:00. We walked inside and the place looked deserted.

Carmichael went up to the front desk and waited until a young woman came out to help him.

"Sorry we're—" she began but Carmichael cut her off.

"I know you're closed but could you please make a quick pepperoni pizza with garlic sauce and Parmesan?"

How did he ... ?

"Of course, coming right up sir."

We sat down as we waited and I just looked at Carmichael with curious mischievousness.

"How did you know what kind of pizza I like?"

He gave me a deer-in-the -headlights look and nervously laughed and said that Debby told him. I couldn't remember a time ever getting pizza or talking about pizza with Debby.

We got our food and Carmichael decided he wanted to take me somewhere. He asked where I would like to enjoy a nice, warm pizza.

We sat in the car and the smell of the food was getting to me. I wanted to eat but wanted to come up with a place where we could enjoy our food. I didn't know New York very well so I picked a place that'd been on my mind for a while.

"The beach?" Carmichael gave me a side grin and I wanted to cringe at that look in his eyes that told me he knew more.

"Yes, the beach."

"You got it."

"So what made you want to come here?" Carmichael asked me as we both grabbed another slice of pizza. I didn't care that my black dress was getting sand on it and I enjoyed seeing such an uptight man like the history teacher in front of me, with his body just leaning on one elbow, being relaxed and having his jacket off. He rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, making him look very sexy and mysterious.

I also realized how much his skin glowed in the moonlight and that for the first time I saw him revealing himself while wearing clothes. He's constantly covering up every inch of his body. It's nice to see a relaxed him.

"Do you play any instruments?" I nodded.

"I used to play cello but haven't touched the thing in over five years. And I dabble a little at the piano. You?"

"Mostly piano. But I have a pretty good grasp on most instruments. Violin, cello, viola, bass, guitar, trumpet—"

"So everything," we both chuckled and Carmichael nervously looked away.

"So why the beach?" I realized that I hadn't answered him earlier.

I looked out to the dark, unending blue and reminisced about a moment that I could hardly remember.

"After my parents' funeral the man in Romania that I stayed with took me to the beach. He claimed that it always calmed him down after a friend of his died."

Carmichael looked out at the ocean and smiled. "My mother encouraged me to go to the ocean to always remember her, claiming that I would watch her surf the waves after she passed from this life." I whipped my head toward my date. The story was familiar but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it from. I then remembered that Carmichael had mentioned that he too lost his parents at a young age.

"How did your mom die?"

"She was sick. She had scarlet fever and we weren't able to treat it due to certain circumstances."

"I'm sorry, and your dad?"

"He was killed. By people that hated him." From what I could tell, the man beside me had a rough childhood. I assumed that he was poor and that his dad had been mixed up in some shady business. But I then remembered Carmichael saying that he inherited money from family. He must have been the heir or something.

I looked out to the ocean again and something flashed across my vision. Not exactly my vision, but two imaginary people ran into the water and began to splash one another and have fun.

"I'll race you to the water!" I jumped and ran down the beach into the wet sand until my feet reached the cool foamy sea. I turned and Carmichael slammed into my chest.

"I didn't expect you to turn," he said. He allowed a small little smirk to appear and for a second, I saw a giant white tooth that looked incredibly sharp. But the smirk was short lived and I ignored the observation.

We didn't take our eyes off each other. His violet eyes captured the light of the pale moon. His skin reflected the white stars. His fingers danced gently up my arms. I took in a small breath before our lips collided. I placed my hands on the man's waist as he pulled me closer by my head, his dagger -like fingers interweaving with my hair. His other hand wrapped around my back making resisting impossible.

Our lips gently broke apart but our faces nuzzled one another.

Something inside me felt complete and full. An empty void that I hadn't realized was there. It suddenly hit me that I'd been wanting this; to be loved by someone.

We went to a hotel—a really nice hotel—and continued the night.
Holding hands with Carmichael had my heart racing and wishful thoughts entered my brain. But something inside me told me that that wasn't my first kiss. Even though it was, it didn't feel like it.

I didn't know what Carmichael was going to encourage once inside the room but I couldn't wait to find out.

We entered the room and I was amazed at the beauty of it. Carmichael placed our bags on a couch then led me over to the bed.

My palms began to sweat and I felt my chest get tight. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my chin towards him with his sharp fingers. He looked pained to kiss me but I could tell that he was nonresistant.

We kissed and didn't know if we were ever going to stop. It became so intense that only until we stopped, so that I could catch my breath, did I realize that the man before me was not out of breath at all or even breathing. I placed my finger under Carmichael's nose and he pulled away. There was no air coming out.

"I shouldn't have taken you here. This was a mistake. Let me drive you home."

"No!" I curled my fingers over his thigh and wondered how old I was. A painful look came over him once more. What is he so scared of? I thought.

"I just," he placed his hand on mine, "wish we knew more about each other." Oh. He grabbed one of my hands and kissed it. He rubbed it with his thumb as he leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. He then lifted himself off the bed and walked over to his bag. He went into the bathroom and changed. I changed after him and climbed into bed. Carmichael shut the curtains and made sure no light from the city shined through. He then climbed into his own bed and said goodnight.

That night I dreamt of the beach. I played in it with Carmichael. But we hadn't played in the water, so where was I creating this vision?