Our Unscripted Story

by L. A. Fiore

  We helped Carl with his belongings. He politely refused our offer to walk him home.

  Greyson turned those pale eyes on me. How I stayed upright was a scientific wonder. “You missed your bus.”

  He was pretty. I really could stare at him all day and since I’d already hit rock bottom with him and started digging—it couldn’t possibly get worse—I stared now. There was a second or two of awkward silence before I said, “I’ll walk.”

  “Lost cat?”

  It took a second to switch gears; a chuckle bubbled up my throat. “It was a joke. I didn’t really think anyone would read it.”

  “You plastered them all over the bulletin board.”

  He saw that? “I didn’t realize people actually read shit on the bulletin boards.” I wasn’t going to say anything, it wasn’t my business, but my mouth opened anyway. “She wasn’t there for my lost cat.”

  Some emotion moved across his face, but I wasn’t sure what. He changed the subject. “You were the one at the beach the other day.”

  He did remember. I was mentally doing a little victory dance. “Yes, you were in my spot.”

  His eyebrow arched very slightly in response. “The rocks, great spot. We’ll have to share it, Alexis.”

  Hearing my name from his mouth, speaking became difficult but I managed, “I’m sure the lawyers can draw up a satisfactory schedule.”

  He grinned. I didn’t know a grin could be so sexy.

  “Can I give you a ride?”

  Give me a ride? I had to be hallucinating now. Like he had to ask. As if there was a chance I’d say no. Maybe I should say no. Keep up the mystery. Play a little hard to get. I wanted to ride on his bike though. I’d have an excuse to touch him.

  “Alexis?” There was humor in his tone.

  “Yes, that would be great.” I looked over to the parking lot and his black motorcycle.

  “Are you okay riding on my bike?”

  As previously mentioned, I loved motorcycles and riding on the back of his was going to be close to perfection. “Absolutely.”

  We reached his bike and Greyson handed me a helmet, but I must have taken too long for the hand-off because he placed it on my head himself. His knuckles brushed my chin creating the most incredible tingles to sizzle just under my skin. He winked and I might have moaned audibly. He looked back at me to get my address after I settled behind him. His lashes were ridiculously long.

  “Hold on.”

  Oh I was. I wrapped my arms around his waist like I’d been doing it since birth. That sounded better in my head. We sped out of the parking lot. I fell in love with the bike and the boy.

  We reached my house and I didn’t want to get off. I might have smelled him a few times during the ride because he had the most incredible scent. Not cologne, like the sea and paint. I loved the smell of paint and gasoline. I had to resist giving him a squeeze before I climbed from his bike and handed him the helmet.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime.”

  I had a thousand questions. I wanted to go to the jetty and ask them, wanted to pry into this boy’s life so I knew every detail of it. Instead, I bit my tongue. Based on the reactions to him, even mine, he probably had half the girls at school fawning over him. He didn’t need another groupie even though I would happily be his groupie. Happily.

  I walked up the path, but I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder at him. He hadn’t moved. Those butterflies could have lifted me right off the ground. “Welcome to Mendocino, Greyson.”

  He waited for me to go inside before he pulled away. I managed to make it to my room before I freaked out. Greyson Ratcliffe had given me a ride home. I had touched him, smelled him; rode on the back of his bike. I dropped back on my bed and squealed like a girl at a Backstreet Boys concert. Maybe physical contact was a bad idea because my crush just amped up. Holy crap, but the guy was perfection. It was also Friday and I wouldn’t see him again until Monday. It was tempting to hunt him down, but that was straddling the line of stalking. I jumped from bed and settled at my desk. I needed to write our first conversation down, every word of it.

  Greyson

  I didn’t drive off right away. I wanted her back on my bike, pressed to me like she had been, her thighs cradling mine and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. It had been an uncomfortable ride and one I wanted to repeat. I was pretty sure she smelled me a few times too. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met.

  I pulled from the curb and headed home. I couldn’t explain my reaction to Alexis Owens. That first day on the beach I’d felt her, a persistent tingling at my nape, strong enough I tried to rub it away. Turning and seeing her holding the handles of that ugly ass bike, her hair blowing in the breeze. I wasn’t good with words, I spoke through my art, but had I been standing I would have been brought to my knees. She was pretty, but it was the hit of attraction that took me by surprise, one so strong it reached across the distance between us. I wanted to chase her down to hear her voice, to get her name. Instead, I drew her. I wanted to remember how she looked, holding onto her bike, looking at me like I was her—curious, interested and slightly confused by the unseen connection that somehow linked two strangers.

  She came across quiet and yet there was so much more going on under the surface. Every thought in her head was easy to read from her expressive eyes. That first day in biology, I’d have sold my soul to know what she was thinking. It was about me, but what specifically. One day I’d ask her.

  I knew she worked at the diner. I’d seen her a few times in the window chatting with customers when I’d been in town. I think I needed to start making the diner a regular hangout.

  Pulling into the drive of the house we were renting, I shut down my bike but I didn’t climb off. The house rested on a cliff and the view was a forever changing canvas. Even a lifetime spent here and that view would always have something new.

  Mom and Dad would have loved this house. It had been three years since they died and still sometimes I was blindsided with the pain of their loss. A car accident took them both. Mom was a force of nature. I smiled to myself realizing that Alexis reminded me of her. Dad loved poetry, always writing little sonnets for my mom. He’d been the one to teach me to shave and drive, had sat me down to give me the talk on the birds and the bees. Like Mom, his wish was for me to pursue my art.

  We’d moved to Mendocino because Grandfather had a friend who wanted to manage me, believed he could make me a household name. As soon as I turned eighteen, Colin wanted me in the States. It had been the plan since I was in primary school. I didn’t need to be a household name, but I did want a career doing what I loved, and that was art. My parents died and a part of me didn’t want to leave home, but they had been my loudest cheerleaders. I would honor them more by going after my dreams. Grandfather was of the same mindset. I hadn’t wanted to finish high school. I wanted to hit the ground running, and up until recently it was a sore point between us, but after meeting Alexis…a school year to get to know the girl who after just one glance I couldn’t get out of my head. Yeah, I was good being right where I was.

  On Monday, I took one of Alexis’ flyers. Writing club. I couldn’t write to save my life, but getting to spend the period with her, I’d fake it. I was at my locker when I saw Alexis coming down the hall. She was with the twins, one of them said something, but it was Alexis’ response that had a grin pulling at my mouth. She scrunched up her nose before she playfully punched him in the arm. Part of the reason I hadn’t made a move was because of the affection I’d seen between them. Their connection seemed familial, but I wasn’t a hundred percent certain of that. I’d push a little and see what happened.

  I knew the moment she knew I was watching. Her back straightened, as awareness tightened her muscles. She looked over and I smiled. Pink colored her cheeks as she absently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her smile was hesitant, but it reached her eyes before it curved her lips. Whatever was happening between us, she felt it too.

&nbs
p; “Hi, Greyson! I have that list of fun things to do. Maybe we could do some together.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. Alexis’ smile faded seeing Stephanie. With the amount of times the girl hunted me down, it would seem like there was something going on. I’d been grateful to her that first day, feeling like I was in a fish bowl, everyone staring and talking behind their hands. She called to me and I grabbed onto her like a lifeline. Since that day, well, I had to give it to her for being persistent. I hadn’t asked for whatever list it was she had, certainly hadn’t suggested we do things together off that list. I wasn’t sure if it was a cultural thing and Americans were just more aggressive than I was used to, but the last straw for me was her showing up at my house with brownies. How the hell did she know where I lived? Grandfather thought it was charming, but he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of her unwanted attention.

  Turning to her, she looked expectant because I hadn’t answered her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also didn’t want to encourage her. Lucky for me, I was literally saved by the bell. “We’ve got to get to homeroom.”

  I didn’t give a fuck about being late for homeroom, but I moved like I was on fire.

  It was sixth period and I was down the hall from where the writing club met. As I approached, I heard The Cure playing softly. Reaching the room, I had to bite down on a laugh because Alexis was dancing. She looked more like a child throwing a tantrum, but the way her ass moved to the beat had my jeans growing snug. She had no idea I was there, completely lost in the music. I cleared my throat. She jerked around. I didn’t miss the pleasure in her eyes before her face went as red as an apple. Her focus moved to the flyer I held.

  “A Cure fan?”

  The reminder that I’d just witnessed her dancing had her cheeks turning pink again. She lowered her arms and replied, “How can you tell?” Suspicion replaced embarrassment when she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Why are you here?”

  I moved into the room and held up her flyer. “I came to find out what was in the box.” Then I noticed there was no one else in the room. “Where is everyone?”

  “It’s just me.”

  I’d get her all to myself. Fuck yeah.

  She was nervous, twisting her fingers together. “I’m the President and sole member, hence the need for the flyers. Mrs. Leer doesn’t think being the only member of a club is helping with my social skills.” Silence followed that comment, but she was definitely thinking something before she added, “She might have a point there.”

  Her gaze moved to my lips. She was so easy to read. She wanted to kiss me and I so wanted to kiss her, actually pondered backing her up to the wall, pressing in close and putting us both out of our misery.

  I think she read my mind when she jerked her eyes from my face and blurted out, “Being the sole member helps to keep the disagreements to a minimum.”

  “But you still have some?” I actually bit my cheek to keep from laughing.

  “The voices in my head are unruly. Why are you really here?”

  “You’re looking at your newest member.”

  Her eyes went wide and her lips formed an O. It was like I just told her she’d won a million dollars. I swear she was about to jump up and down. My head swelled a bit. Despite her excitement, she asked, “You want to join the writing club? Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “Who put you up to this? It was Mrs. Leer wasn’t it? You drew the short straw. New kid and all.”

  “I don’t know who Mrs. Leer is.”

  “Guidance counselor.”

  “Don’t know her.” I lifted the flyer. “It was your flyers. Riveting. And the artwork is without equal.”

  She flared her nostrils. “You’re an artist, aren’t you? That day on the beach you were sketching.”

  She noticed that? “Yes.”

  “My box is dreadful, but in fairness I created that flyer in under thirty seconds.”

  I deadpanned. “I never would have guessed that.” I moved closer and saw the pulse point at her neck jump. “What I want to know is what’s in the box? Maybe it’s the cat.”

  “You’re not charming,” But her expression suggested otherwise. “Whatever you want is in the box. It’s called imagination.”

  “Really? So what’s in your box?”

  Her eyes burned hot. Fucking hell, she had no idea how easy she was to read. She practically shouted, “Pop-Tarts.”

  Pop-Tarts? Bullshit. “I’ve never had them.”

  “They’re delicious and convenient.” She was lying through her teeth.

  “That’s a glowing endorsement. I’ll have to try them.”

  “Yum.” That was all she had.

  I moved to a desk because in another minute she was going to see what this conversation was doing to me. She was still watching, seemingly unconcerned that I knew she was undressing me with her eyes. I saw the light bulb go on over her head before she asked, “How’s your eyesight?”

  I bit my tongue so hard I drew blood, but Alexis was fucking hilarious and being sexy as sin…a dangerous combination. I eyed her from head to toe and back again to let her know I knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Twenty/twenty.”

  Her expression gave her away. She already knew the answer before she asked it. She took her seat. “I usually just do homework.”

  I surprised her when I asked, “What do you write?”

  She mumbled it, but I still heard her. “My last will and testament because after this exchange my social life is definitely on life support.” I lowered my head and grinned. She added, “Short stories mostly, but I’d like to write a novel, maybe a screenplay. How about you? What do you draw?”

  “Anything and everything.” I was purposely vague because I had some really great ideas for drawings that included her. I shifted in my seat. She turned back to her book, probably because I had been sort of dismissive. I pulled out my spiral ring. I needed to draw her, because I wanted to touch her. We weren’t there yet, but we’d get there and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  That night, I had trouble focusing on my homework because my thoughts kept circling back to Alexis. It had been attraction that caught my attention at first, but now I couldn’t stop smiling. She was so much more than a pretty face. I wasn’t getting any work done, so I left it for now and went to the painting I had setup on an easel in the living room. It was Alexis from that first day. My heart took a jolt every time I looked at her, even my body was telling me to pay attention that something special was happening.

  Grandfather returned from the market, his greeting pulling me back to the kitchen.

  “Are there more bags?” I asked.

  “No. There was a girl outside.”

  My heart pounded thinking it was Alexis.

  “It was the one who brought the brownies. Stephanie, I believe.” He stopped unpacking the groceries. “You’re not interested.”

  “No.”

  “Have you told her?”

  “I’m still working on a way to do that and not hurt her feelings.”

  Seeing the Pop-Tarts, I couldn’t help the grin. Pop-Tarts were not what was in Alexis’ box, but she really tried to sell the Pop-Tarts. I was bringing the Pop-Tarts to sixth period to see how far she was willing to take her deception. Knew she’d choke them down before she’d confess. I was looking forward to watching her.

  I grabbed the milk from the fridge, and drank right out of the carton. Grandfather gave me the look. It didn’t matter how many times he told me, I liked drinking the milk from the carton. He didn’t drink milk, probably why he didn’t push too hard to change my bad habit.

  “So, talk to me about the painting in the living room. Who is that?”

  “Alexis.”

  “You don’t usually paint people.” He studied me for a minute before he added, “She’s the reason you’re not interested in Stephanie.”

  I wasn’t interested in Stephanie because she was a few cards shy of a deck, but I was v
ery interested in Alexis. “Yeah.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  In more ways than one. I wanted to see her; she might be working tonight. I grabbed the Pop-Tarts.

  Grandfather grinned. “Drive safely.”

  Alexis

  “I asked for a salad, dressing on the side.” Debbie dropped her elbows on the table and tilted her head to me like I was slow. “It really isn’t that hard, Alexis.”

  My hands curled into fists. How much fun it would be to plant one of them in the middle of her face. She had poured the dressing on herself. I had watched her.

  Paige didn’t miss a beat, sweeping in with a new salad, sans dressing. I enjoyed this part because as often as Debbie taunted us, she had zero learning curve. Paige was exquisite and every boy at Debbie’s table thought so, including Mike. The green-eyed monster appeared on Debbie’s shoulder as Mike flirted outrageously with Paige.

  I turned for the kitchen when the bell over the door jingled. Glancing over, my heart skipped a beat when Greyson walked into the diner heading to a booth in my section.

  Paige joined me. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s the guy from the jetty.”

  “Ah. He is cute.”

  He was so much more than cute and so distracted at the sight of him, I didn’t move. Frozen in place happily watching the boy who made me feel all kinds of crazy in the best possible way.

  “You’re staring,” Paige whispered.

  “Shit.”

  She chuckled, “You’ve got it bad.”

  I did and I hardly knew him. I took the opportunity, as I approached, to appreciate the muscles of his chest and arms accentuated by the black tee he wore. My body grew warm. I then saw the box of Pop-Tarts. My eyes narrowed. He was grinning.

  “I brought dessert. Thought maybe you’d like to join me being such a lover of the Pop-Tart.”

  His sense of humor made him even sexier. Still, I wasn’t confessing, no way in hell. I’d eat that whole damn box before I admitted he was what I wanted in my box.

  “Do you know what you want?” He didn’t answer. I had pencil to paper waiting, but the pause was so pronounced I glanced up to find him staring at me. How I stayed upright when my bones turned to liquid I couldn’t say, but what a look. My voice was an octave too high when I asked, “Did you want something to eat or do you just want the toaster?”