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  The Beginning of Forever

  Seven Steps

  The Beginning Of Forever

  Copyright ©2016 by Seven Steps

  All rights reserved by the author.

  The Beginning Of Forever is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, recording, by information storage and retrieval or photocopied, without permission in writing from Seven Steps.

  Proudly Published in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also by Seven Steps

  Social Media

  The Beginning Of Forever

  Also by Seven Steps

  Social Media

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  Further Reading: The Boyfriend Agreement

  About the Author

  Also by Seven Steps

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  Time Bomb – Dimensions Book 1

  Free Fall – Dimensions Book 2

  Collision Course – Dimensions Book 3

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  Leilu – Dimensions Origins Book 1

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  The Beginning of Forever

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  The Beginning Of Forever

  Sophia Johnson glided into the Wilkes High School Corn Cobb Formal Dance in jeans and a Metallica band t-shirt.

  She squeezed her cousin Quincey’s arm tight and ripped her eyes away from the balloons, streamers, fake corn stalks, and haystacks to gaze at him with a potent mixture of excitement and wonder. He looked back at her with a face weighted down with annoyance and fear.

  “I can’t believe I’m here!” she squealed.

  “Yeah. Well, just keep it down. Try to blend in.”

  She pushed one arm in the air and struck a pose.

  “You know me. I don’t blend. I sparkle.”

  Quincey bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head.

  “This was a bad idea,” he said, his eyes darting around the room. “People are going to notice. We should go home.”

  “No, Quincey Johnson; we are not going home. We are going to enjoy ourselves and support each other. You know why?” She stopped their forward motion and looked up at him. “Because family sticks together.”

  His eyes bulged at their family’s mantra, and he put one finger over her lips to shush her.

  “Keep it down, will you?!” He hissed. “I don’t want people to know.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “You mean you don’t want people to know that we’re cousins?”

  His tawny cheeks reddened, and he looked back at the gymnasium door for the millionth time since they’d arrived.

  “We should go back.”

  “Come on, Quincey! We can’t just leave. We just got here, and I am not going to miss the one night in my life that I get to have fun. Besides, you asked me here. You can’t just dump me.”

  “I asked you because my original date broke her ankle.”

  “Oh. The mystery girl that you keep going on about? What was it?” She snapped her finger as she tried to recall the girl’s name. “Keisha, Kenya, Kayla-”

  “Kia.”

  “Whatever. The point is that I was gracious enough to come here with you, and the least that you could do is show me a good time. Now, are we going to dance or what?” She pulled him forward by the sleeve of his tuxedo, anxious to be among the rest of the partying teenagers.

  Pop music pumped through two speakers mounted on the walls in front of the gymnasium. A middle aged, African American woman with black headphones three sizes bigger than her head sat behind a white Apple laptop, a single finger carefully clicking the buttons from time to time.

  The inside of the gymnasium smelled like a strange mixture of the perfectly stacked brownies on the dessert table and the sweat pouring off the gaggles of teenagers that filled the humid room. Sophia loved brownies. Sweaty teenagers, not so much.

  My first high school prom. I can’t believe that I’m here. Yes, it’s with my cousin, but beggars can’t be choosey. I can’t wait to hit the dance floor!

  A thrill raced through her as she stepped closer to the dance floor.

  Quincey yanked her back.

  “If your mom finds out that you’re here—”

  The mention of her mother gave Sophia pause, and she looked around the gymnasium, reassuring herself that she was not being followed. When she didn’t see her mother’s eagle eyes, she let out a breath.

  “She’s not here. She’s back at your house with Aunt Beatrice; exactly where we left her.”

  She looked again at her cousin. His eyes continued to dart around the room, and he pulled on his tie as if it were choking him. Though he hadn’t danced yet, sweat gathered on his dark forehead and fogged his thin framed glasses. To Sophia, he looked very much like a man who’d been caught in the rain, and she tried to suppress a smile at her poor cousin’s misery.

  Pulling him close to her, she gave him a soft pat on the arm. “It’s your senior prom. The only one you’ll ever get. Just relax and try to have some fun.”

  He sighed and nodded, his shoulder’s relaxing slightly as he led her deeper into the gym.

  They stopped next to the punch table.

  “Okay. So, what’s the plan?” Sophia asked.

  “We have until nine thirty. Then my mom’s coming to pick me up, and you'll walk home.”

  “Nine thirty. Right.” Sophia’s feet danced beneath her to the rhythm of an old nineties pop song.

  The teens on the dance floor were dressed in sparkly ball gowns and well pressed suits as they bounced and rocked with an appropriate one foot distance between them. Anything closer would have drawn the attention of the chaperones who watched over them like mama eagles. Several of the less popular kids stood along the sides of the dance floor. Kids with braces, oily hair, and bodies that either had no angles, or too many of them.

  Sophia wanted to wrap her arms around them. Didn’t they know how fortunate they were to even be there? Her mother didn’t allow her to go to parties, or to listen to anything but Christian music, or even to sing too loudly. She went to an all-girls Christian Academy that re-enforced her mother’s strict values. She didn’t have a television or a radio, and all her skirts fell to her calves. It was only their annual trek from Vermont to her Aunt Beatrice’s house in Texas that gave her any semblance of a normal life. She’d lie in Quincey’s bedroom and listen to music, real music, with real singers who made no mention of God or Bridges or Troubled Waters. She’d learn a year’s worth of dances and, when they were alone, she’d sing as loudly as she please
d. Quincey was her tie to the outside world, and so she jumped at the chance to help him when he mentioned that he didn’t have a date for his senior prom that morning.

  They were there. And it was the most amazing, scary, and forbidden thing she had done in her seventeen years of life. She’d never lied to her mother or snuck out to go to a party, and she was doing both.

  So this is what they mean by good girls going bad.

  “Hey, Quincey. You made it.”

  A dark haired, dark eyed boy, around Quincey’s age, with sun-tanned skin and heavy brows to match his heavy build walked over and clapped Quincey on the back.

  Quincey shrugged, less than enthused.

  “Yeah. I made it.”

  “And you brought a date.”

  His confident, cocky stance and the tilt of his head as he examined her made her heart beat pick up.

  “Yeah. This is—”

  “Georgia Rose.” She held out one shaky hand, and ignored her cousin’s quizzical look.

  The boy smiled, holding her with an intense gaze that made her ears hot. He shook her hand gently, cocooning her fingers in warmth. “Josiah Walker. You can call me Joe. Or, you can call me what the guys on the football team call me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Superman.”

  Sophia wrinkled her nose and scrunched her brows.

  Superman? Who does this guy think he is?

  “He’s the team captain.” Quincey folded his hands across his chest and muttered, “It’s a stupid thing we do.”

  Joe hadn’t let her hand go. Sophia hadn’t let his hand go either.

  “So, what school do you go to?” he asked, stepping closer to her.

  “Old Pine.”

  The lie rolled off her tongue like water. She wasn’t a liar by nature, but these were desperate times. What if that boy mentioned to someone that he’d seen a girl named Sophia Johnson at the prom? What if word got back to her mom? She’d be grounded for life! No. It was better to go full incognito.

  “Is that around here?” Joe asked.

  “It’s in Mississippi. Where I’m from.”

  Quincey’s eyebrows rose higher, nearly touching his perfectly shaped hairline. She’d get an earful when she got back to his house. She was sure of that.

  “Mississippi is far away from here,” Joe said, his voice lowering.

  She nodded, confused at the regret that slid across his face.

  Anyone could see that Josiah Walker was devastatingly handsome. But there was something else about him that drew her to him. A warmth. An openness. Something about the way that he looked at her as if she were special that made her stomach fill with butterflies and her caramel colored cheeks redden. A pleasant electricity ran from their still joined hands, and he stepped closer, the full mass of his over six-foot frame making her feel petite and feminine. At five foot seven, she often towered over boys and girls her own age, but with Joe, she felt as if she were standing in the shade of a mighty tree. A handsome, mighty tree.

  “Joe, you gonna let go of my date’s hand or what?”

  Quincey’s voice startled her, and she snapped her head in his direction, pinning him with a dirty look. His fear at his peers discovering that he’d taken his jean-clad cousin to the prom was replaced with a teasing grin directed at both her and Joe.

  Joe let go of her hand and stepped back, sending a cool chill through her once warm hand. The gym was hot, but Josiah Walker’s touch felt even hotter.

  “Let’s dance, Georgia. I’m sure that Joe’s date is waiting for him.”

  Sadness ran across Joe’s face, and he ran his hand along the back of his neck. “She was. She’s gone now.”

  “Gone?” Quincey asked. “Weren’t you here with Josie?”

  Joe nodded, avoiding Quincey’s eye.

  “Well, where is she?”

  Joe’s eyes slid to Sophia, before returning to Quincey. He whispered something in Quincey’s ear, and the sadness of Joe’s face slid onto her cousin’s.

  What happened? What happened to Josie?

  “Oh,” he said. Stuffing his hands into his tuxedo pocket, his shiny leather shoes slid some invisible object across the floor before he looked up at Sophia.

  “Why don’t you dance with Joe?” he asked.

  “Me?” she stuttered.

  “Sure. You said you wanted to dance. And I’m not feeling so hot right now. So...”

  He grimaced and rubbed his stomach, but, somehow, Sophia thought that Quincey felt just fine.

  “Are ... are you sure?”

  Quincey nodded. “Yeah. He needs it.”

  Joe waved his hands in front of himself. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I mean, I’m the captain of the football team, right? I should be able to find someone else to dance with.”

  His confident smile was replaced with a false one, his eyes belying a pain that made Sophia’s gut clench.

  What had happened to Josie? Why is he so sad?

  “You know, I think that I’ll just hang out over here. You two have fun.”

  He turned his back on them, pouring himself a plastic cup of punch and downing it in one gulp as if it were whiskey.

  Sophia wasn’t an extrovert. Not by a long shot. But she knew how to ask for what she wanted. And, right then, she wanted to wipe the sadness off Joe’s face and banish it to a place from which it would never return.

  Before he could pour himself another shot of red punch, and before she lost her nerve, Sophia grabbed Joe’s hand and led him to the dance floor, ignoring the looks that her odd attire attracted. Without speaking, they jumped and bounced and twirled amongst the rest of the awkward teenagers and, somewhere around the second song, Joe’s sadness drifted away, lost in the fake corn stalks, yellow hay bales, and blue twirling lights. His confident, cocky, boyish grin returned in full force. The lightness of his feet belied his size, and he easily kept in step with Sophia. She’d never met a football player before. After all, she did go to an all-girls school. But she had seen them in advertisements and signs. None of them looked like they were especially light on their feet. But Joe was different. He was comfortable on the dance floor. As comfortable as she imagined he’d be on the field.

  Just why do they call him Superman?

  The lights lowered and the music slowed down, indicating that the dance was coming to a close.

  “This way,” he said, pulling her toward the high corn stalks in the corner of the gym. When they arrived at the corner of the gym, he let her hand go and stood in front of her. With the shadows of the dark gym, the larger than life decorations, and the mass of his body, he’d effectively given them a sliver of privacy in the darkened room.

  “So, what’s with the outfit?” he asked, his eyes roaming down from her t-shirt, to her jeans, to her sneakers, and back again.

  His blocked her view of the rest of the gym, and she heard her heart beat in her ears over the music. She put a hand over her belly—a nervous habit.

  “I wasn’t really prepared to come here,” she said. “I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

  “The look fits you,” he said. “I like it.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You seem cool, Georgia Rose. One of the coolest girls here.”

  Sophia looked down at the floor. “It doesn’t feel that way, what with all of the crazy looks everyone keeps giving me.”

  “Ah.” He waved the comment away. “They’re just jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Cause you’re the prettiest girl here.”

  She blushed, her hands trembling as they rubbed small circles over her belly.

  “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Her shocked eyes looked up at his. His gaze had gone from warm and inviting to hard and unreadable.

  “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

  “You keep touching your stomach.”

  “No. I, uh ... it’s just a nervous habit. I swear. I’ve never even been with a boy that way.”


  His tight shoulders visibly relaxed and he let out a breath, the smile returning to his face.

  “Sorry. I just ... I guess I’m just paranoid.”

  Sophia bit her lower lip. “Was that what happened to Josie?”

  Joe’s eyes left hers, instead focusing on some point of interest on the peeling gym walls. She’d hit a nerve, and she cursed herself for it.

  Stupid habits. Stupid Josie.

  The thought of Joe being unhappy squeezed her heart. She liked his smile. She wanted him always to smile. To be filled with joy and good cheer.

  Raising one hand, she placed it gently on his cheek, pulling his attention back to her. His eyes had turned haunted again. She wished the old Joe would come back.

  “Don’t you have any nervous habits?” she asked.

  The intensity of his gaze faded, and he smiled and shook his head, his ears reddening.

  “Nah. It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I can’t. You’ll laugh at me.”

  “I swear I won’t.”

  “Well, I’ll laugh at me.”

  “Come on, Joe. Please. You know my secrets. Let me know one of yours.”

  His gaze heated again. The emotions that ran over his face confused her. Lost one minute. Cheery the next. Afraid to share, but cocky. Josiah Walker was an open book, with words written in his eyes, lips, and the coloring of his ears. She wondered how many other girls had read him. How many girls had torn out his pages and trampled on them as Josie did.

  He stepped forward, placing his lips next to her ear. The room seemed to spin, and it became harder to breathe.

  “When I’m nervous, I sing the theme song to Thunder Cats.”

  His lips stayed next to her ear for a moment longer. She heard him take a deep sniff of her hair, before he took a tiny step back, allowing her to breathe again.

  Her heart beat so hard that her ribs hurt, and she wished that he would whisper more secrets. He smelled heavenly, and his body made her feel safe. Protected.

  Lungs tight, she struggled to think. Her eyes glued to his face, and she was fascinated to discover the same tension running through him that ran through her. His ears had turned beet red, and he frowned. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she felt butterflies burst through her stomach. She was sure that, if she looked up, she’d see their yellow wings fluttering in the air. But she didn’t want to look at butterflies. She wanted to look at Joe.