by L. A. Fiore
I wondered about her parents. She was right. There was love in the picture, so what happened? I understood better now the sadness in her eyes. I came from an ancestry that spanned centuries and she didn’t even know who her parents were. That had to make her feel very small in a great big world. It didn’t help that she was living with the world’s biggest assholes. They needed to answer for their treatment of her. I’d make sure one day they did.
I studied the painting coming to life on the canvas. It was Alexis that first day, clutching that ugly ass bike. I’d always remember her just like that, the image already burned onto my brain. The day was coming when I would have to let her go, but I’d always have this…my girl who claimed my heart with no more than a look.
Alexis
I swear I spent the day in a daze. I’d seen Greyson more today than I ever had at school. He was at my locker between classes, waiting for me outside of homeroom. I loved that he wanted to see me as much I wanted to see him.
The day was almost over. I reached my locker and was disappointed that he wasn’t there. As soon as I opened it, a note fell out. Excitement swept through me because I had never before gotten a note in my locker. Unfolding it revealed a strong masculine script.
Hey, beautiful. Meet me at my bike after school.
G
My heart started pounding, my hands got sweaty, and the damn butterflies started again. I wouldn’t be paying a lick of attention for the rest of the day. At least the rest of the day was only two more periods. I folded up the note and tucked it into my pocket. I would keep it forever, pressed in between the pages of a favorite book.
After the final bell, I headed outside. A strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back against a familiar muscled chest…so much for meeting at his bike.
“Come with me.”
“Anywhere.”
He took me to the bluff, the place he wanted to paint. As soon as he climbed off his bike he had me in his arms. The kiss was hot and sweet. “Hi.”
I really liked this new way he had for saying hi.
He reached for my hand. We walked along the bluff. Neither of us needed words, the silence was comforting. We found a spot and sat down. It really was beautiful here. The year was moving so quickly and as much as I was going to miss him, I was excited for him and what came next. He was looking out at the horizon, the wind teasing his hair. He looked a lot like how he had that day on my jetty. I’d remember him like this, had already tucked the sight away with my other memories.
“Have you thought about where you’ll be in twenty years?” He glanced over. “I know you know what to expect, and I’m not looking for you to say with me because we both had dreams before we met, but where do you hope to end up?”
He had thought about it because he didn’t need time to answer. “I’d like to be known. Not necessarily a household name like my agent is hoping, but enough that galleries are bidding to show my work. Ideally, the dream would be to get an exhibit at The Met and have a small paragraph in the history books as an artist of mention. But I’d be happy to make a living off my art, one where I can pick and chose commissions. I’d like a house on the water, a wife I can’t get enough of…” He grinned and my heart flipped. “Kids. What about you?”
“The ultimate dream is to win an Academy Award for best adapted screenplay based on my international best seller.”
Humor danced in his eyes. “Are you sure? Do you need time to think about it?”
“I want to rub his bald, golden head, put it in a case that is on a motion sensor so every time someone walks into the room, the case lights up and the Academy music starts to play.”
He was laughing, but not at me. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“Yeah, since I was a kid. But I’d be happy with being successful enough I could support myself with my writing, having a fan base. I’d like to do a play that is shown Off-Off-Broadway, but if I’m being really ambitious, Off-Broadway.”
“Not on Broadway.”
“I’d love that, but I need to be somewhat realistic.”
He chuckled before he asked, “Do you see yourself married?”
To him, I could see that so clearly. “Yes, and kids.”
He touched my cheek. “It’s you I see with me. I know there’s a lot that can happen between then and now, but right now I see us, older, more gray, but I’m still as crazy about you as I am now.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I see that too.”
“I’ve never felt this way before.”
Tears prickled my eyes. “Me either.”
“When it is time for me to go, I have to just go or I won’t be able to.”
Thinking about the day that was coming too soon, my chest grew tight. I wasn’t sure how I’d survive him walking out of my life. “Like a Band-Aid. Just rip it off. Maybe our paths will cross again.”
He lifted my chin to look me in the eyes. “Our paths will definitely cross again. This thing between us is just getting started.”
The moment was bittersweet because your first boyfriend was rarely your forever boyfriend, but in that perfect moment I let myself believe.
Alexis
January and February flew by and we were halfway through March. I tried not to think about May, about graduation and Greyson leaving, but it followed me like a dark cloud. We were in the library. He was working on a sketch and I was researching his family. The papers Callum had given me were the copies of household journals, dating back to the fourteenth century. Handwriting from people who had died centuries earlier, proof they had lived. It was incredible. There were pictures too, portraits from the gallery of the Ratcliffe ancestors. And like Callum had said, the diamond was in several of them.
“The fire Callum mentioned, it was pretty substantial.”
Greyson looked up from his sketch. “They did an incredible job with the rebuild because you can’t tell.”
“Do you have a sketch of home?”
He flipped through his spiral ring then pushed it across the table to me. It really was a castle, a medieval one with circular towers and battlements, archways and hundreds of glazed windows. Ivy grew over the weathered stone and garden beds wrapped around it. It was old, massive and beautiful.
“I can’t believe you live there. When will you go back?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes met mine. “I meant it, Alexis, I want you to see my home.”
I wanted that too. Maybe one day I would.
He grew playful when he teased, “Did you know Stephanie asked me to prom?”
Stephanie. She really was persistent. “When?”
“Last week.”
“Doesn’t she know you and I are together?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to believe it.”
An unpleasant sensation moved down my spine. I understood the enticement, I really did, but we were together, a fact that had circulated through the school. For her to continue her pursuit of him was a little disturbing.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Don’t you want to know what I said to her?”
“Hell no, I hope.”
“I told her it was up to my girl if we went.”
I dropped my head on my hand. I had no doubt my eyes went all dreamy before I asked, “Who’s your girl?”
He looked wicked when he said, “If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”
“You’re doing it right.”
He tugged on my hair. “I know. We can go to prom if you want, but I was thinking of doing something different.”
Where my thoughts went in response, yeah I think doing something different was a really good idea.
He moved so fast, pulling my mouth to his. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but I’m all for that.” He bit my lower lip. “So?” he asked.
“What were we talking about?”
He grinned. “Prom.”
“I’m not really into prom.”
“Good answer.”
He stood, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the stacks. He pressed me up against the wall, his body crowding me. “My girl,” he whispered then he kissed me.
“What are you doing up there?” Dylan called from the base of the tree house. When we were younger, we had practically lived here.
“Just thinking.”
Dylan’s head appeared in the cutout of the floor. “About what?” He answered his own question. “Greyson?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve known you since you were six.” He settled in the beanbag next to mine. “How are you handling him leaving?”
“I’m not at the moment.”
“Denial.”
“Yeah.”
“When is he leaving?”
“I don’t know. That’s not entirely true.” I pulled a hand through my hair and clarified, “I don’t want to know.”
“You guys work. Too bad your timing sucks.”
“Big understatement. Do you and Dom still want Berkley?”
“Yep.”
“It’s a good thing, all of us going off to pursue our dreams, but it kind of sucks too. I’m going to miss you knuckleheads.”
His eyes were surprisingly bright when he knocked me in the shoulder with his own. “We’re not leaving for another year, so cut that shit out.”
He was right, but that year was going to fly. This one certainly had.
I was working when Greyson entered. He strolled to the booth he always sat in when here; he caught my eye on the way and smiled. I loved him. I loved the way he walked and how he didn’t assess a room when he entered. I loved those long locks that framed his beautiful face and how he was always carrying that spiral ring. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was his favorite sight and how even when we were just talking he touched my cheek or my jaw, playing with my hair like he was making sure I was there. I loved how I felt around him and the person I was around him. I was almost seventeen and yet I had found the love of my life and in a few weeks he was leaving. Just the thought caused a wicked pain that stole my breath.
I joined him, resting my hip on the booth.
“I heard you have a birthday coming up,” he said in way of greeting.
“Was it Paige or her girls?”
“Her girls. I saw them the other day at the market. Weren’t you going tell me?”
I shrugged; I didn’t really get into the whole birthday thing. “It’s just a birthday.”
“I guess you don’t want your present then.”
I liked presents. “I’ll take the present, you know, since you went to the trouble of getting me one and all.”
“It’s what I thought we could do instead of prom.”
“I’m intrigued.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.
“Is that it?”
“Yep.”
He offered it, but when I reached for it he pulled it away.
“Tease.”
He laughed then handed it to me. I opened the envelope and my smile dropped from my face.
Tickets to The Cure.
It was a dream to see them, but none of my friends liked them. I never thought I would. Seeing them with Greyson, my eyes stung at the greatest gift I had ever been given.
“Alexis?”
I was crazy out of my head in love with him. My heart was so full and yet it hurt. We were running out of time. I kissed him, leaned over and right there in the diner I kissed him like it was my job. He wasn’t shy about kissing me back.
“Is that a yes?” he asked against my lips.
“It’s a hell yes.”
The bus was relatively empty. Greyson and I took seats toward the back. I had brought my journal and he his sketchpad to whittle some of the time because it was a four-hour bus ride to San Francisco.
“When did you know you wanted to be an artist?”
“Sounds crazy, but the first time I picked up a crayon. I love the entire process of creating something from nothing. Thinking it in your head and bringing it to life with your hands.” Our eyes met. “You have to know what that feels like with your writing.”
I did.
“When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”
“In the beginning, my stories kept me company. My foster parents wouldn’t play with me, so I created friends. In my stories, I could go anywhere and do anything. My characters kept me company.”
He unclenched his jaw. He didn’t like my foster parents. “And now?”
“I love getting lost in my imagination, creating worlds and characters that are real to me. And if even just one person finds an escape when they need it, or a lonely child finds a companion in the pages, I will consider myself a success.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out a pack of Pop-Tarts. “Because I know how much you love them.”
I scrunched up my face. He handed me one, took the other for himself, then lit a match from a box he had in his bag. “Happy birthday, Alexis.”
Tears hit my eyes.
“Make a wish.”
I wished for him.
I blew out his version of a candle and we ate our Pop-Tarts. I hated Pop-Tarts, but I loved that one.
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I’m so glad your art brought you to Mendocino.”
The concert was awesome. By the end of the show I had no voice left from screaming and singing along. Catching a glimpse of Greyson, I saw that he was watching me not the concert.
When “Just like Heaven” started, I reached for his hand. He had other plans. He yanked me against him and kissed me long and hard. “Just like Heaven” became, and would remain always, my favorite song.
After the concert we found a late night diner, one that catered to truckers, and ate pancakes at midnight. By the time the bus rolled in we were exhausted. A few minutes after we took our seats, we were both sound asleep.
The bus pulled into the depot, but I didn’t want our time to end. Greyson wasn’t ready either. We reached his bike that was parked at the depot when he said, “There’s somewhere else I want to go.”
We went to the bluffs. We walked, but spoke very little. We seemed more content to just be in the other’s company. The day had been the best of my life and even when I was old and gray it would still rank at the very top.
Greyson broke the silence when he said, “I want to ask you to come with me.”
“And I want to say yes, but I still have a year left of school.”
“With how I’m feeling, I believe we can make it work, that you and I are only at the beginning, but life often has other plans.”
My throat went tight hearing him voice my greatest fear.
His expression was intense. “Promise me if we lose touch, you’ll look me up. A year, two, ten.”
I couldn’t stand the thought of life continuing on with us apart, that this past year was all we’d ever have. “I promise.”
“I love you, Alexis.”
My eyes burned and my throat went tight. He loved me. I knew he did, but we had never said the words. “I love you.”
Silence followed as we marked the moment, then he kissed me, hungrily, greedily, his tongue tasting, exploring, memorizing. Desire pooled in my belly. He curled his arm around my waist, lowered me to the ground and settled in the cradle of my body. I dragged my hands through his hair, wanting more of him. He rubbed himself against me, hitting my clit and sending pleasure shooting down my legs. I hooked my heels around his thighs and moved with him. My body grew tight with the pending orgasm.
Then he was gone, sitting back on his legs looking guilty. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t do this here.”
“Why not?”
His head jerked to me; love and lust burned in those pale eyes. “You deserve better.”
“No one’s here and it’s our special spot. I can’t think of a better place to make love.”
H
is mouth came back down on mine. There was an urgency about him, like he was trying to get his fill. My heart cracked because we had run out of time. I touched every part of him, memorizing his body, his taste, the feel of those long locks between my fingers, the weight of him over me.
“No condom,” I whispered.
“But you could get pregnant.”
Maybe, but I didn’t care. I touched his face. “No condom. I need to feel all of you.”
I’ll never forget how he looked just then. Love, pure and simple. He was deliberate when he joined us and so achingly sweet. He made my body sing, but it was my heart he was touching, branding and claiming even as it was breaking. He stayed buried inside me for a while after, both of us unwilling to let the other go. He kissed me; saying goodbye without words and though I was dying inside, that kiss would go down as the most beautiful kiss of my life.
We dressed slowly, prolonging the inevitable. He pulled me into his arms, and buried his face in my hair. “You’ve changed my life.”
I lost the battle with my tears. “And you’ve changed mine.”
He drove me home and walked me to the door. “Remember your promise.”
“I’ll remember.”
He touched his lips to mine and let them linger before he whispered, “Goodbye.”
My heart shattered as I watched the one person I wanted most in the world walking out of my life. I wanted to beg him to stay, but instead I watched him climb onto his bike. His eyes found mine and we shared a moment. Unspoken words that were understood…one day we would pick up where we left off because we weren’t at the end. We were only at the beginning.
The following morning, Greyson left Mendocino and he took my heart with him.
Greyson 1998
“The saturation is outstanding and the flow is organic, but you could make better use of your negative space and even in landscapes there should be a focal point to pull the eye, to entice. It’s also imperative you keep your brushes in good condition. Your detail work is a little off here. You should have used a new round brush. Do you see your lines are not precise? That small distortion distracts from the image.” Philippe Rainier, a brilliant artist and also my tutor, studied me like he had my painting. “It is the little mistakes that separate a master from an apprentice.”