by Amy Sparling
I nod and keep my mouth shut, letting him attempt to dig himself out of the hole he has created. He runs a hand through his hair. “I just can’t remember where.”
“And that’s why you avoided me? Because we might be friends?”
“Because we might be enemies,” he says quickly. “Are we?”
“Okay, now I’m confused. Why would we be enemies? We only met once. Briefly, I might add.”
The relief on his face is crystal clear. “Ah, okay. So we didn’t…?”
“We didn’t what?” I ask, peering at him coyly. “I think I know what you’re talking about, but I want to hear you say it.”
His smile is confident now, cocky even. “We didn’t hook up? Make out? You didn’t give me your number and I forgot to call you back or anything?”
“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “Are you seriously that much of a player that you can’t remember who you’ve dated?”
“Hey, I didn’t say date. I don’t date.”
I nod, sarcastically. “Right…”
Park practically leaps off the bench and heads toward the front of the gazebo. I think he’s leaving, but then he grabs another beer from a caterer and comes back to sit next to me. He takes a long drink from the bottle and then looks at me, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world now. “I don’t,” he says, taking another long drink. “I visit Texas a lot, but I wouldn’t date anyone here. Long distance crap isn’t my thing.”
“I’m starting to think dating in general isn’t your thing.”
He points a finger at me over his beer bottle. “Ding ding. Correct.”
I laugh, keeping up the charade that I am calm and collected and unaffected by this new knowledge of Park being a player. “Well, you can rest easy because we only met once and I barely remember it.”
“It’s killing me not knowing. Where did we meet?”
“Where do you think we met?” I’m enjoying this way too much. Maybe it’s because I’m finally talking to the guy I’ve had a crush on for a year. Or maybe it’s because I’m exhausted from a busy day.
“A party maybe? At a motocross track?” His eyebrows draw together as he watches me, taking in my features and trying to have them jog his memory. I can’t really be offended that he doesn’t remember where he met me. I’ve heard that he’s practically as famous as Jace is around the motocross community. I bet he meets tons of people.
“Close,” I say. “It was a track…but not motocross…”
His eyes light up, sparkling from the lights overhead. “You’re the C&C girl.”
I can’t even tell you how good it feels to have him remember me. Finally. I only had to give him a couple of hints…that has to mean something. (Trust me, I know how pathetic that sounds.) I nod slowly. “That’s me. I have a name. It’s Becca.”
Park leans a little closer as he says, “I know your name, Becca. I’ve known it all week.” His breath smells faintly of beer and it’s kind of hot. It’s definitely hotter when he drinks than when the guys I go to school with drink. Underage drinking, especially when my dad is a cop, is not something I find sexy. But a man who’s old enough to drink? I can get into that.
“I actually know you a little bit more than that,” he says, catching me off guard.
“What do you mean by that? I think I’ve only seen you once or twice at the track. Your name is how I remembered you. Park is…unusual.” Okay, so I’m lying. I only saw him exactly once, for exactly a few minutes, but he doesn’t need to know that. If his memory is foggy, then so is mine.
“I don’t know you, but I know of you. Dustin told me about your little encounter.”
“Huh?”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry, he kept the details to himself.”
“You’ll need to explain more than that,” I say. “I haven’t had any encounters with Dustin, other than signing him in at work. He’s been begging to add me on Facebook, but I always tell him no. The boy is kind of…crazy.”
Park lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
I nod and this makes him lift the other eyebrow in surprise. “I’m gonna kill him. I can’t believe I fell for that.”
“Did he say we dated or something?”
“It’s cute how you keep using the word ‘date’,” he says, sliding his hand through his hair and letting it rest on the back of his neck. “He may have said something like that. I guess he was trying to brag about his womanizing skills by using a girl he knew I’d never see again. What a douche.”
“Wow,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed and proud. “I wonder how many other guys have pretended to hook up with me.”
Park stands up and finishes his beer in one gulp. “I’d imagine just about every guy you’ve ever met.”
I stand up as well. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to know.” He picks up his first empty beer bottle and holds both of them in one hand. “Let’s go clean up this wedding. I’ve had a long day of driving. I’m ready to sleep.”
Chapter 4
My mom only freaks out a little bit when I tell her I’m crashing at Bayleigh’s apartment tonight instead of driving three hours home at midnight.
“Won’t you be scared to stay all by yourself?” she asks. I can practically see her standing in her bedroom at home, clutching the phone, desperately trying to stop her daughter from growing up.
“Mom, I’m not a baby. I can stay in an apartment by myself. It’s Jace and Bayleigh’s place. It’s not like it’s some creepy motel.”
“Okay but I don’t want you to get murdered.”
“I have a better chance of getting murdered if I’m driving home this late at night.”
She sighs. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“Call me as soon as you wake up in the morning.”
“I will.”
When we hang up the phone, I’m already at my destination. I had driven to Bayleigh’s apartment before I called her. I figured if she said no, then I’d have the argument that I was already here to try and win her over. Luckily, it didn’t come to that. While sitting in my car, I hook the spare house key onto my keychain. She hadn’t said she’d want her key back so I’m pretty sure I get to keep it. Plus I won’t lose it if it’s on my car keys.
The parking lot is a little scary when I walk from the guest parking lot toward their apartment building. I probably could have parked in Jace’s assigned spot, but since my car doesn’t have the apartment complex’s sticker in the window, I don’t want to risk getting fined. I let myself up the stairs and into the apartment.
I’ve been here so many times but it still feels a little weird now that I’m here alone. Like I’m intruding on their personal lives…which is crazy because they invited me. I’m allowed to be here. Which means I’m probably allowed to steal a Diet Coke from the fridge.
I turn on the television for some company and make a bed out of blankets and spare pillows on their couch in the living room. Once all of that is done, I brush my teeth, change into a pair of Bayleigh’s pajamas, leaving my bridesmaid dress draped over the chair in the corner of the living room.
I hate to admit that my mom might be right, but it kind of sucks being here all alone. As much as I’m dying to move out of my parent’s house and strike out on my own like Bayleigh and Jace, I’m not sure I could live in an apartment all by myself. And I certainly don’t see myself finding a boyfriend I’d ever want to live with—at least not any time soon. It kind of sucks being the only person in an apartment. It’s lonely in ways the television does not make up for.
I flip through the channels as I lie on the couch, cuddled up in a fleece throw I found in the hallway closet. Absolutely nothing worth watching is on television at one in the morning, and I end up wasting fifteen minutes just flipping channels. I yawn, and the exhaustion of the day starts to settle in my limbs. I should just go to sleep. But it’s hard sleeping when I feel so weird being the only person here. Maybe I shoul
d have just driven home. Or maybe I should, you know, grow up and stop being a baby about this.
With one last check of my phone, (there were no new messages) I turn off the television and close my eyes. Unfortunately, the moment the room goes dark, thoughts of Park come flying back into my mind like a hurricane. I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax my frazzled nerves.
When the sound of feet slogging up the stairs disturbs my dreams, I don’t move very much. Because at first I think I’m dreaming. Then a particularly heavy footstep breaks my half-asleep stupor and my eyes snap open.
Someone is walking up the stairs.
The outdoor stairway only goes to this apartment, so there is only one reason to walk up these stairs. The blood in my veins turns to ice as I leap off the couch, wide-eyed and terrified. Someone is coming up here. Best case, they’re going to break in because they think no one is home. Worst case…I’m dead. Oh my God. Oh no.
My fingers dig into the side of my hair as I frantically try to think of something to do. This isn’t like my house at home where there’s a back door I could slip out of and head for safety. There’s only one way out of this place and it’s through the door that—oh god—someone is trying to open.
The living room has absolutely nothing of use, save for a bridesmaid dress that might be fluffy enough to hide under, but there’s no way I could sit still that long while a robber tears through the house. The sound of metal sliding into the keyhole on the other side makes my palms sweat. The sound goes in and out again, and then the door jiggles. Whoever is out there must be trying to pick the lock.
Realizing that I should have called 911 like a million years ago, I grab my phone and run down the hall toward Jace and Bayleigh’s bedroom, where I close the door and fumble for the lock but this door doesn’t seem to have a lock. What kind of master bedroom door doesn’t have a lock? My shaking fingers press the button on my phone and to my freaking horror, the phone does nothing. The battery is dead.
The noises at the front door have gone silent, or at least it sounds like it from here. Maybe he gave up. My ears strain to listen for more footsteps, the sound of retreat, but everything is quiet. Dropping to the floor, I try to squeeze under their bed but there’s no room because Bayleigh has plastic storage tubs filling up the space. I try the closet next, and find a baseball bat propped up against the wall.
With a deep breath, I grab the bat, testing its weight in my hands. I will fight back. I will defend myself. I’ll defend my friend’s possessions from being stolen.
Or maybe I’ll just hit him in the head as hard as I can and then run like hell.
The front door opens. I can hear the squeaky hinges. My entire body trembles as I make my way toward the bedroom door, standing on the opposite side of the door handle, baseball bat lifted and ready to strike. I swallow but my throat is so dry it hurts. Mom was right. I should have just gone home. I would do anything to be at home, lying in my own bed right now.
I draw in a deep breath and tighten my grip on the bat. A cell phone bursts to life and I nearly jump out of my skin at the unexpected noise. My phone is still dead so I know the sound didn’t come from this room. That’s when I hear the intruder’s feet walking across the living room, echoing the way footsteps do on a second-story floor. It’s his phone that’s ringing. Even though he just broke into an apartment, he answers it.
“Hello?” The bat nearly drops from my hand while I strain to listen to the one sided conversation from the other side of the door. “I just got in. Took me forever to get through the door.” There’s more words I can’t quite hear, so I step closer to the door, wanting to put my ear up against it but knowing I need to keep a hand on the bat and stay vigilant.
I hear him laugh as his heavy footsteps meander around the living room, probably looking for things to steal while he chats on the phone. My heart thuds like a jackhammer and the sound of my own terrified heartbeat blocks out most of the sounds from the other room. That is until I hear the words, “Is she here? I see her dress on the chair.”
I freeze. Am I the she this intruder is talking about? I don’t even have time to think about it because the footsteps are growing closer. Even with the baseball bat and the courage I had pretended to gather up into myself, I stand frozen on the inside of the room, unable to hide or fight or do anything as the footsteps come closer and closer. Now he is right outside of the door. He is so close I can hear him as if he were standing right next to me. I’m not sure what’s more frightening: that I recognize the voice of the intruder, or the fact that the next thing he says is, “Maybe she fell asleep in your room. I’ll check.”
The door swings open and I am face to face with Park.
This time, the baseball bat really does fall out of my hands.
Chapter 5
“She’s here,” he says into the phone. “I gotta go.” He ends the call and slips the phone into the pocket of his tuxedo. I am still standing here, still frozen, still unblinking. I think maybe I am in shock, or I am just so relieved that the intruder isn’t really an intruder and now I can’t think straight.
But in a really weird, really morbid and screwed up way, I’m kind of thinking an intruder might have been easier to deal with. I was ready for an intruder. I had a weapon. I had a plan. I was going to run. Now, the running away plan doesn’t seem so feasible.
Now, I am stuck in Bayleigh’s apartment with Park.
“What…um,” I say. I know. Smooth. I swallow and try again. “Why are you here? I thought you were an intruder.”
Park lets out a yawn, glancing down at the fallen baseball bat. “I can see that.”
My hands keep making fists and twisting around and then I play with the ring on my index finger as I shift on my feet. The last few minutes have had my heart beating like I’m running a marathon and suddenly I’m both full of energy and insanely tired. “Sorry,” I say but I’m not really sure why I’m apologizing—he’s the one who scared the crap out of me. “I wasn’t expecting you. You scared me.”
“Badly, I’m assuming.”
His amusement at my near heart attack really pisses me off. “What exactly are you doing here?” I snap, finding the strength to put my shaking hands on my hips. “Does Jace know you broke into his house?”
“I didn’t break in.” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a key that looks a lot like mine. “I have permission to be here.”
With a huff of indignation, I grab the bat off the floor and take it back to where I found it in the closet. “Well no one told me you were coming over here. If Jace had thought to let me know that fact, then I would have just gone home instead. So, sorry.”
I don’t know why I’m so angry about this. It’s as if my overabundance of fear has manifested itself into pure anger. I sigh and Park yawns again. “It really sounded like you were breaking in, you know. Do you have any clue how a key is supposed to work?”
He laughs. “This key was brand new so I guess it doesn’t fit very well into the lock. I had to wiggle it like crazy to get it work.”
My heart is still pounding, although if it’s from being scared or the new fact that I’m once again talking to my old crush, I’m not sure. “My key worked fine,” I say. “I guess they just like me better so they gave me the better key.”
He nods, running a hand through his hair. I can tell he’s trying to stifle another yawn. “Probably. I wasn’t even supposed to come here. I drove to a hotel for the night and then my damn credit card was declined. Apparently taking an impromptu trip across the country, buying a ton of shit along the way and then trying to get a hotel triggers the theft protection. They froze my card for and have to mail me a new one.”
“That sucks.” Ugh, I’m so lame. I don’t know why I just said that. Luckily, Park doesn’t seem to notice.
“I called Jace and he told me to crash over here.”
“Bayleigh also told me to stay here,” I say. “Looks like they didn’t coordinate.”
He glances arou
nd the room. “It’s cool, I’ll take the couch.” Without warning, his hand touches my arm, just for a second before he slowly pulls away. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m exhausted. This has been a ridiculous day and I kind of just want to sleep.”
“It’s fine, but I already have the couch claimed.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So? I’ll take the couch. You take the bed, it’ll be way more comfortable.”
I hesitate, glancing toward my best friend and her husband’s bed. Wouldn’t it be weird to sleep on it when they…well…you know? As if reading my mind, Park ducks into the closet and emerges a moment later with a fresh set of sheets. “I’ll help you change them,” he says, yanking the comforter off the bed in one swift motion.
“I can do it,” I say, trying to help but finding myself suddenly useless as he takes off the old sheets and begins putting on the new ones.
“Helping is the least I can do after scaring you so badly you look like a ghost,” he says, smiling to himself.
“I don’t look like a ghost,” I say a little too defensively. My arms cross and I stand there, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Maybe you should look in the mirror,” he says with a wink. He leans forward and stretches a sheet over the bed, then lifts the comforter back into position with a big whip of it from the foot end of the bed. When the comforter settles into place, he gestures toward the newly made bed with his hand. “Goodnight,” he says. He walks around me and slips out of the room, making the room suddenly seem too large. I wasn’t done talking to him, but I can’t exactly bring him back in here.
And how exactly am I supposed to sleep, knowing the most gorgeous guy ever is sleeping on the couch in the other room that’s just a few feet away? It was hard enough going to work every day last summer wondering if he’d stop by again when he never did. Yet each day I had held onto hope that he might return. And now, there he is. Nolan Park in the flesh. In the living room. On the couch.
Sleeping.