Shadow of a Girl

by Shannon Greenland

  “Yes,” I admit without hesitation. Yes, I want him to take it off.

  With one hand he grabs it between his shoulders and slips it forward over his head. He tosses it to the side and stays kneeling above me. “Touch me,” he invites.

  Propping up on one elbow, I tentatively lay my fingers on his chest. His muscles twitch in response, and I lift my gaze to his.

  “It’s okay,” he tells me. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. Touch me.”

  I do, trailing my fingers across his chest, down over his warm, ridged abs, around his navel, back up and over to trail the tattoo on his arm. It’s only as I’m tracing the bands of muscles in his shoulders do I realize he’s not breathing.

  I bring my gaze to his, and releasing his breath, West comes toward me to settle between my thighs. This time our kiss is slower, more sensual, and seems to last forever.

  His hand travels down my leg, squeezing at intervals, and I’m reminded of when he did that on the beach. I pull my inner thighs in, and he presses hard against me, shooting vibrations all through me. Driven by instinct I dig my fingers into his hips and pull him closer.

  He tears his lips from mine and slides down to push my shirt up. He nibbles a hot trail up one side of my stomach and down the other. His fingers dip into the gap of my jeans, and he traces the waist band of my underwear.

  I close my eyes, insanely aware of my heavy, shaky breaths.

  He unsnaps my jeans…

  I can do this.

  He unzips them…

  It is a sin to let a boy touch your body!

  He traces his finger around my belly button…

  Go away! I tell Gideon’s voice.

  I try to focus on West. Just West. But now that the other stuff is in my brain, I can’t redirect my thoughts. I keep my eyes closed and tell myself to breathe.

  I want to do this.

  Suddenly I realize West isn’t doing anything, but I don’t open my eyes. Instead I hold my breath and wait.

  “Eve?”

  I do open my eyes then and glance down to him. He’s got his chin propped on my stomach as he stares back. “Are you okay?”

  I take a second. “Yes, why?”

  His brow lifts. “Because you just had your eyes squeezed shut like you were in pain, and you stopped breathing.”

  “Oh.” I roll my gaze up to the ceiling. God, I’m so irritated with myself!

  Outside the hotel the sound of an ambulance pierces the air. An eternal minute passes.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not you.” A sigh pushes out of me. “I’m sorry.” I can’t believe I just freaked on him. Again!

  After a few more awkward seconds, he crawls up beside me and rolls to his back to stare at the ceiling.

  “I’m sor—”

  He turns his head to look at me. “You know I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

  “I know.”

  More silence, and I can see he’s working things through in his brain. I wish I knew what he was thinking. He reaches out then to take my hand and gives me a little tug until we’re rolled and spooned together.

  “Is this okay?” he asks, and I nod.

  We lie for what seems forever, breathing, trying to regain our equilibrium. Finally, he lifts up to give me a tender kiss on the neck. I draw his hand tighter around me, linking fingers, feeling such guilt. What does West think about it all?

  I don’t turn in his arms. It’s easier to talk when I don’t have to look him in the face. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “A lot actually.”

  A lump rises in my throat. “I know you’re upset—”

  “No,” he interrupts. “Not upset. Never upset. This is new territory for me. For both of us.”

  I let out a glum breath.

  “But that’s not a bad thing,” he continues, softness creeping into his tone. “Don’t you understand that making love with you is going to be so much more amazing when you’re absolutely ready? When we’re both ready.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, miserable to my core.

  He turns me around to face him and meets my gaze with his steady one. “I’m not, and you don’t need to be, either.”

  My eyes well with tears. “You’re such a good guy.”

  He lets out an amused scoff and touches his forehead to mine. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  We both smile at that, and he playfully wiggles against me. “But all this foreplay is a good thing. Makes us all excited for the real event.”

  I love the way he always makes an otherwise stressful situation into an easier one. “Thanks for being so understanding. I know you’re used to a lot different.”

  He traces the outline of my jaw with his finger. “I am, but I’m not complaining. I was serious earlier. I want this to work between us.”

  I nod. “Okay.” He pokes me in the ribs and I jump. “What’d you do that for?”

  He pokes me again. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  I poke him back.

  West catches me up in a hug, gives me a quick kiss, and rolls with me across the bed.

  “My clothes,” I laugh, pulling my undone jeans back up.

  “Yeah,” he helps me, “the last thing I’d want is for your clothes to come off.”

  “West,” I giggle.

  He drops a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “You’ve got about the best giggle I’ve ever heard,” he says, and that makes me giggle some more.

  Smiling, he buttons and zips me up and hugs me to him so I’m stretched out on top of him. He trails a lazy finger up and down my back, like he did last night, and I gradually relax into him.

  Minutes later his trailing finger slips under the hem of my shirt, and I freeze.

  “It’s okay,” he softly assures me. “Trust me.”

  My breath catches, and I hold really still as he strokes, bare skin to bare skin. He traces several of the scars with the pads of his fingers, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” he quietly speaks. “Survived your childhood. Turned out so sweet.”

  Survived. Yes, so far I have managed that.

  He starts humming, continuing his stroking, and I gradually realize it’s our song. Emotion swamps me, and I breathe out. The humming. His tender, approving caress. The flowers. The brunch we barely ate. It all smashes into me, cracking something inside.

  Every cell in me relaxes, and a sigh leaves my lips as I slowly sink into him. I open my mouth, ready to tell him my whole story, and he speaks instead—

  “I saw a counselor all last year,” he quietly starts. “She helped me deal with a lot of stuff.”

  It takes me a second to comprehend the switch in things, and then I ask, “What kind of stuff?”

  He doesn’t immediately respond.

  “Trust me,” I encourage, using his words. “You can talk to me.”

  His hold on me tightens and way down deep in my core, I know he’s about to tell me something huge.

  “My mom and my sister were on I95 heading north to come see one of my shows. My mom was driving—” Abruptly, he stops talking. He draws in a deep breath and when it comes back out, it’s extremely shaky. “There was an accident and traffic was backed up. They were rear-ended by a semi.”

  He covers his face with his hand and takes a second, and I do the only thing I can do and just hold him.

  He sniffs. “Mom died on impact. Vianca’s paralyzed.” He sniffs again. “If they wouldn’t have been coming to see me, they’d both be fine.”

  I lift my head and kiss his chest. I don’t know what to say. I wish I did. But I don’t.

  He digs his fingers into his eyes. “Anyway I went to a counselor to deal with it all. It’s helped. Sometimes we go as a whole family. Guilt’s a horrible thing.” He catches his breath. “What amazes me is that none of them blame me, and they have every right to. God, my beautiful sister is forever m
aimed because of me.”

  His lips tremble, and it absolutely breaks me. I scoot up a little bit and wrap my arms securely around him, cradling his head to my breasts. I hold him, soothing my hand along his bare back.

  Poor West. What a horrible thing. Who would’ve guessed under all his grins and lighthearted ways, he was dealing with this. Then again everyone deals with tragedy in their own way. I close myself off, and he smothers his in smiles and witty banter.

  We continue to hold each other, lulled into peace by our breathing and the steady rhythmic beats of our hearts.

  I wonder why he chose now to tell me this. I think it’s his way of showing me the trust he has in me. The trust he wants me to give him in return. I’m glad he shared and can’t help feeling relieved he’s got his own stuff he’s dealing with. I know that sounds bad, but I just don’t want to be the only one with emotional baggage.

  I want to help you. He’d said that to me in the stairwell in New York. I hadn’t given it much thought since then because I wasn’t even sure I heard him right, but now it comes back. Sad. Lonely. Pity. Those were some of the words he used when we first met. Is that what initially drew him to me? Was he trying to redeem his guilt by helping me?

  Maybe, but not now. Brave. Strong. Beautiful. Those are his words for me now, and I like them so much better than sad and lonely.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  West and I go back to our morning runs. Anne and I go back to travelling on the Mack Daddy bus. Everything seems so right, so perfect. I don’t want any of it to go away.

  Bluma hasn’t contacted me, and with each day I don’t hear from her, I easily pretend I’m fading to a distant memory in Gideon’s mind. I fantasize about not hiding any more. About actually going out in public with West.

  He asks continually, wanting me to go to this or that, but I always turn him down. I just can’t risk cameras and being seen. As much as I want true freedom, I have to deny myself and deny West in order to grasp it someday.

  I know he’s confused, but I always come up with a plausible reason. I have to work. I’m too tired. Let’s just hang out in your suite. How about a walk in the park? But he rolls with it. He lets me set the pace.

  West comes up behind me, bringing me from my thoughts, and snakes his arms around my stomach as he pulls me back against him. He presses his warm lips to the side of my neck, and I hold back the urge to sigh, mainly because Anne’s standing right in front of us.

  As if on cue, her eyebrows shoot straight up. “Well, hello. Do I get some of that yummy neck nuzzling, too?”

  West laughs and pulls her in and gives her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. She makes a show of wiping it off.

  He props himself up against a speaker tower and switches his gaze back to me. It trails down to the Foghorn Leghorn centered between my breasts. “Where do you get those shirts?” he asks.

  “I order them online.”

  “I didn’t think anybody liked cartoons more than me.”

  “They’re funny.”

  His lips twitch. “That they are. Hey, I have a dinner tonight I have to go to. Will you go with me?”

  Dread settles through me. I hate disappointing him. “How about I meet you afterward?” I suggest, as I always do.

  Frustration flashes across his face, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “One of these days we’re going to officially out ourselves. Even if it takes us a whole year to do so.”

  “Okay,” I agree, thinking, a whole year? Wow. He’s really thinking far in advance.

  “We get a long weekend off. What are you doing?”

  I shrug. “The usual I guess. Hang out with you.” I nod to Anne. “Hang out with her.”

  “Well, what do you say me and you ‘hang out’ at my cabin?”

  Butterflies zing all through me. “You have a cabin?”

  “In North Carolina, and since we’re going to be in that area, it won’t take long to get there. It’s on a hundred acres. There are all these cool valleys and mountains. Some creeks. It’s a small town with all these touristy shops. Oh, and I have tons of toys like a dune buggy, a four-wheeler, motorcycle, and some bicycles.”

  I don’t think anything ever sounded so good. “Just you and me? Alone?”

  His lips curve up. “Yes.”

  “Um, okay I guess.”

  “Great!” He gives me one last kiss and walks off.

  “So,” Anne begins when he’s out of earshot, “here’s what I want you to do. A little homework assignment and report back. I want you to kiss his tat from top to bottom. I want you to lick his chest. To reach down in his pants—”

  “Anne!”

  She laughs and waves me off. “Kidding! But do we need to have a birds and bees talk?”

  I roll my eyes back to her. “No.”

  “Hm.” She puts her index finger to her pursed lips.

  “What?”

  “Do you know how to use a condom?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, no.” I sigh.

  She laughs. “Listen, you and me, tonight, we’re going to have a little talk about testicles and vaginas and condoms and the stork and blowjobs and orgasms and —”

  I slap my hands over my face. “Anne!”

  Chapter Forty

  West rents a SUV, and early Friday afternoon we pull into the small town of Mountain Lady, North Carolina. Village more accurately describes it, like something straight out of a centuries old novel.

  We cruise our way through the community, and I check out the various shops. Leather. Glass-blowing. Taffy. Iron works. And many more.

  “I had Omar stock the kitchen,” West tells me. “So we’ll be good to go for the weekend. Won’t have to leave unless we just want to.”

  “Omar?”

  “He takes care of the property.”

  We cross railroad tracks, and I catch sight of a grocery store. Across the street is a log cabin restaurant that seems to be doing good business. Down the road is a post office. And beside that sits a doctor’s office.

  “This place is adorable.”

  West turns onto a gravel road and points to a snow-covered mountain in the distance. “Across the hills and to that peak’s where we’re going.”

  “Seems far away.” Seems perfect.

  He turns on the radio, and for the next thirty minutes we wind back and forth on the gravel road through the winter trees and all the way to the top of the mountain. I imagine with a good snowfall this place is impassible, and in the summer it’s probably so covered in green you can’t even see the cabins dotting the mountain.

  We cross a creek and hang a left. West points to a small cottage with a beautiful greenhouse on the left. “That’s where Omar lives.”

  A little farther up and the trees open to reveal a cleared area. A log cabin sits built into the slope of the ridge with half of it extending out on stilts. Underneath sits a Jeep, a dune buggy, and two motorcycles.

  West pulls up and cuts the engine. “Here we are.”

  I open the SUV door, climb out, and just stand for a second taking in the scenery. From down below this mountain had looked thick and uninhabitable, but from up here it looks out over snow-filled valleys with other cabins spotting here and there. Way in the distance sits the tiny town we had arrived in with a bubbling river weaving through it all.

  Absolutely unbelievable. “It’s like something out of a magazine.”

  A dog barks, and its sound echoes around us. “That’s Jake,” West tells me as a black lab bursts through the trees and gallops toward us.

  When he reaches us, he immediately sits, and with a laugh I squat down and give him a rub. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He leans into the rub, granting me this loopy look that makes me want to keep rubbing. “I never had a dog before. I might just have to make up for that and spoil you while I’m here.”

  West grabs our stuff from the back. “Come on.”

  I follow him around the house and up stone steps to the front door. He wipes his boots on the m
att and lets us both in. Jake pushes past, his nails clicking across the hardwood floor, and prances over to plop down on a rug in front of the fireplace. He obviously knows his way around.

  With gleaming dark wood floors, walls, and rafters, one huge great room contains the kitchen and living room, and a bank of windows to the left looks out over the valley.

  “There are two rooms down here and the loft upstairs.” West puts our stuff down. “I usually sleep in the loft, but if you want it, that’s fine, and I’ll sleep down here.”

  That comment brings me such relief. Which is just silly. West and I have slept together before.

  Someone knocks on the door, and I turn to see this little man with gray hair and a scowl. “Oh, that’s right. You’re here this weekend.”

  West greets him. “Hey, Omar. This is Eve.”

  Omar turns his scowl on me and my blue hair. “How long you staying?”

  “Same as West. The weekend.”

  He sniffs. “You work for that rock group, too?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hm,” he grunts, then just keeps studying me.

  A few seconds tick by, and I get a little uncomfortable. Why is he just looking at me? I reach up to tug my ball cap down before remembering I’m not wearing one.

  “Do I know you?” he asks.

  “N-no, sir.”

  Omar studies me another couple of seconds before giving another grunt and turning toward the door. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you need me.”

  He closes the door and West just laughs. “Ignore him. He’s always like that.”

  I smile a little, but way down deep something nags. Did Omar recognize me? There’s no way he could know who I am.

  Is there?

  Chapter Forty-One

  West insists I take the loft with its private bath, skylight, and amazing view through the windows. As I sit on the bed and stare out at the valley, I think of West down in the garage doing “guy” stuff he said. I’ll give him a few minutes and then go see what’s up.

  The bookshelf to the right catches my attention. On the upper rack sits a stack of magazines. The one on top features Bus Stop, and I slide it off.

  Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a tight black T-shirt, West stands with the other guys, his guitar hanging nonchalantly in front of him. I give into a sigh and flip the cover open. There’s a collage of pictures of West, every one of them with a different gorgeous girl. Jealousy sparks in me, and I close the magazine and put it back.