“I’m going to rehearsal later, which is why I’m only having something light today,” I say.
“I’ll get milk . . . Do you drink coffee, too?”
“Absolutely. I’ve already had two cups, or I wouldn’t even have made it here.”
Pax laughs quietly. “You were always a coffeeholic.”
“Some things never change.”
He gets out milk and cups, then the coffeepot. “Good thing I already made some.” He sets the pot down on the table and takes a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer. He sets down both things in front of me before sitting back down in his chair.
“Thanks,” I say cheerfully while preparing my cereal.
“This Gavin lives here in the Hamptons, or is he from somewhere else?”
“He lives here, but I guess he grew up in Miami,” I reply. “Or wait a minute, his friends are from Miami, but he’s from Orlando.”
“So he’s a Floridian,” Pax states with amusement.
“Yeah.” I start eating my breakfast.
“Do you like him?”
I choke on my granola and have to cough before I can answer. “I like him, but,” I gasp, “I really can’t deal with a relationship right now.” I’m shaken by another coughing fit, which is why Pax gets up to thump me on the back. “You all right?” he asks.
“Yeah, thanks,” I answer hoarsely and take a gulp of coffee.
Pax sits back down and looks at me. “So, if you like this guy, why don’t you give him a chance, or rather . . . why don’t you just enjoy that somebody cares about you? It’s not like you have to dive right into this relationship. Which, honestly, would be kind of a stupid thing to do since you barely know each other. But Lane, you need to start listening to your heart more, and less to your head. I guess in that respect you haven’t really changed much,” he says sympathetically.
“But if he ends up hurting me . . .”
He tilts his head and regards me with a frown. “What if, tomorrow, your roof falls in on you? What if a plane crashes right on the spot you happened to park your car? There’s never a guarantee for anything in life . . . But at least you’ll know that you’re going to be happy for a while.”
“And then I’ll be hurt for an even longer while,” I mumble into my cereal bowl.
“What are you scared of?” he pushes, which makes me feel pressured again. Gavin asked me the very same thing yesterday, and I gave him a completely crazy answer.
“Of me and of him. Of me, because I know I won’t be able to deal with it if it goes wrong again. Him, because he’s a goddamn celebrity who probably has ten women wrapped around each finger, but he wants me . . . at the moment. What if he’s on tour and I’m back home and he can’t help himself?” I want to know.
“Then he doesn’t deserve you. But I think you’ve lost me. Are you in love, or do you just like him?”
“I think I’m stuck somewhere between the two feelings.” So now it’s out. Finally!
“So that means you get the tingles when you see him.”
“That means I feel like a stupid grinning schoolgirl every time I see him.”
Pax laughs quietly. “You’re crushing on him so hard.”
I shake my head with a smile over his amusement, trying to hide my blushing cheeks. “Maybe.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Not true.”
“Sure.”
“Cut it out, Pax!”
“I’m not doing anything,” he says, raising his hands in front of his chest defensively.
I laugh out loud. “Oh no, nothing. You’re . . . just teasing me because I’m crushing like a schoolgirl.”
“Hey, that schoolgirl used to crush on me, too. What’s so bad about that?”
“You’re right.”
Pax nods gravely while finally getting back to his breakfast. We talk about our school days, about what became of our old friends, and about our plans for the future. It feels good to talk to somebody who has known me since kindergarten. As it happens, Pax was with me during all the important milestones in my life. He was the first one to congratulate me on getting accepted to Juilliard. We were both in New York back then, and during dancing tryouts, he waited for me by the door. I was seventeen then. Despite our failed relationship—could you call it that in your teens?—we stayed friends, even though we drifted apart after a while. But deep inside, we knew that we’d always be there for each other. It’s incredible how close we still are after so long. I’ve even managed to get all my grief about Brooke’s death off my chest. It still hurts, but if there’s somebody who can understand me now, it’s Paxton. He explains to me how he distracted himself after his father’s death. He gives me suggestions on how to deal with it. Since her funeral, I haven’t been to the cemetery, because I don’t want the grave to be my last image of her. I want to keep on seeing her laugh when I close my eyes, not a heart carved out of black marble lying on a patch of lawn.
For me, she’s not lying underground in a coffin. I cannot and will not accept that. Now and then, tears fill my eyes as I talk, and I push them away bravely, even though Pax tells me I need to let them out. But I can’t yet. What I can do, though, is change the subject, because talking about Brooke still hurts. It felt good, it was liberating to talk about her, but at some point I feel so depressed I really need to talk about something different. Something nice, or it’ll keep dragging me down further and further. Even though it’s rude, I keep looking at my watch because I have to catch the bus to Gavin’s.
“Are you pressed for time?”
I blink rapidly. “I’m sorry?”
“You keep glancing at your watch . . . Do you have to go somewhere?”
“We’ve been talking for over two and a half hours now. I need to get to rehearsal now. First I have four hours with Gavin, and then two with Jonah, because we’ll be dancing in the show on Saturday,” I reply.
“Are there going to be tickets for that?” he inquires.
“I can get you some if you want.”
“One is fine, I’m not bringing anybody.”
“Maybe you could go with Macey.”
“Who’s she?” he asks curiously.
“She’s my other best friend. But I don’t know yet if she has a performance of her own on Saturday because she’s on Broadway.”
“Is she an actress?”
“Yeah, an actress and singer. Right now she’s in Beauty and the Beast.”
“I can go alone. You don’t have to set me up with one of your friends.” Pax grins at me.
“That wasn’t the plan, I just didn’t want you to have to hang around alone.”
“Aren’t your parents coming?” he asks.
“Sure, they’re coming, too.”
“Then I’ll just sit with them.”
“All right, that’s fine then,” I reply cheerfully.
“Shall I bring you to rehearsal?”
My lips stretch into a wide smile as I nod. “That would be really sweet of you.”
Pax gets up. “If you help me clear the table, we can leave sooner.”
I jump up and start helping him.
“I’ve never seen anybody so eager to tidy up.” He laughs.
“I don’t feel like taking the bus.” I grin at him while I put the cold cuts back in the fridge.
Pax picks up the plates. “Would you like to meet on Saturday after the show?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You might be pretty knocked out.”
“I’d like to have some distraction after all that. We could go out in Manhattan, or somewhere around here.”
“Ryker opened up a club here last year. It’s right by the beach.”
“A club, huh?”
“Well, it’s a mix. It’s a restaurant upstairs and a club downstairs. He hosts a lot of beach parties, and I think there’s one scheduled for this Saturday.”
“I’d like to get a look at that.”
Pax nods as I glance at him. “So, what do you think?
Want to go with me?”
“I’d love to.” I close the fridge door with a push of my hip.
“Shall we drive back from the city together?”
“Sure.”
“Great, that means all I need now is . . .”
“What do you need?” I ask with a grin.
“I need to pick up an outfit for Saturday. I haven’t gone out in ages, and because of my workouts I’ve gained some muscle, so my fancy shirts don’t fit anymore,” he admits.
I laugh out loud. “If you want, we can go shopping together tomorrow after work.”
“And you’d really advise me?” he asks, visibly surprised.
“Why not?” I reply, bemused. “Friends can go shopping together, can’t they?”
“Can men and women be friends? Most people say that’s impossible,” he tells me.
I tilt my head. “If you knew how many male friends I have you wouldn’t ask me that.”
“But since I don’t know, I’d like to hear your opinion.”
“Men and women can be friends,” I reply confidently. “As long as you can convince yourself that you’re sitting across from a hippo.”
We gaze at each other for a second before we double over with laughter.
“You’re still totally nuts.”
“I’ve just watched too many episodes of How I Met Your Mother.” I take a deep breath. “What part of the beach is the party on?”
“Westhampton Beach.”
“Great, that means I can walk home if I want to.”
Pax nods again. “True, but Ryker usually has a driver to bring home tipsy guests.”
“Even better, but I won’t be drinking anyway.”
He points at the door. “Shall we?”
“Yes, please.” I pick up my cardigan and my bags, and then we leave Paxton’s apartment.
As we reach his car, I’m struck with wonder.
“You’re still driving your dad’s Impala?”
“I inherited it from him.”
“Oh, awesome.” It’s the exact same model and black color as the one Dean Winchester drives in Supernatural. I love this car, and even back then I loved riding around in it. Most people don’t appreciate a classic like that, but I do. As soon as Pax opens the door for me, I climb into the passenger seat and lean over to unlock the driver’s side. Then I lean back. I take a deep breath and enjoy the scent of the fine leather. It’s evident that Pax changed the seat coverings and tweaked a few things. I fasten my seat belt.
“All right then.” He turns on the motor and starts driving.
“It’s incredible what you’ve done with this baby,” I tell him approvingly.
“Thanks. My dad always wanted to revamp it, but he couldn’t do it, which is why I spent weeks trying to make it the way he would have wanted it.”
I lay my hand on his arm. “You did great.”
“I appreciate the compliment . . . So where are we going?”
I tell him the address, which is why he makes a U-turn the first chance he gets. I’m glad I remembered to fasten my seat belt, or I would have been thrown around pretty badly.
“Huh, he lives in a pretty fancy area.”
“I know, but that’s the thing with celebrities.”
“I don’t know him, so I’ve never heard of him. Is he the aloof type?”
“Not at all. I think he’s pretty modest.”
“Do you know for sure?”
“Well, not really.”
He answers with a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You really need to get to know him better before you start something bigger with him.”
I laugh quietly. “We’ll see if I’m going to at all.”
“You’re crushing on him so hard that you will. I’ve known you longer than anybody else has, Lane, I know it.”
I cock an eyebrow before returning my gaze to the road. “We’ll see.”
“Wow, this place looks safer than Fort Knox.”
I giggle at his cliché. I was thinking the same thing when I was here yesterday. “I guess they don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Uh-huh, the singing boys might be kidnapped,” he says drily.
“That would be a catastrophe for millions of fans,” I reply. “I can get out here so you don’t have to drive all the way.”
“The gate’s just opening now, so I’ll take you to the doorstep and then I’m off.”
“OK.”
Pax keeps driving, and I take a look at the road lined with trees that flank us.
Five minutes later we reach our destination. “Should I come pick you up tonight?” Pax asks.
“No, I need to go to rehearsal with Jonah directly after, and I still need to call him to pick me up.”
“All right then. And when are we meeting to go shopping?”
“Friday?” I suggest.
“OK. Friday three o’clock?”
“Sounds perfect. See you then, Pax.” I lean over and give him a light kiss on the cheek.
“Take care, Lane.”
“You, too.” Then I get out and walk to the door. As I’m about to knock, it opens. Gavin, who happens to be wearing a dark expression, is standing there. “So you’re finally here,” he says.
“A good day to you, too,” I retort. “May I come in?”
He pushes the door open all the way and leans on it with his hand. “Sure thing.”
“Thanks.” I slip inside underneath his arm. “Are we practicing upstairs again?”
He nods. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“We’re doing lifts, but don’t worry, they’re not the kind where I might land wrong, like Julie. And spins.”
Gavin slams the door so loudly that I jump.
I wait for him to pass me, but he stops at the stairs. “After you, Lane.”
At that, I walk past him up the stairs. No idea what that was all about, but I’m certainly not complaining.
“Ah, here’s the hot dancer again.”
I roll my eyes as I hear Azer’s voice. I don’t know why he’ll only call me “the dancer,” but I find it annoying that he calls me hot, too.
Finally we’ve reached the practice room. I’d prefer it if we could practice at the local dancing school, but we probably wouldn’t get a second of peace there. He’s the most well-known participant this season by far. There’s also a former and a current NASCAR race driver, actors, authors, and two musicians who want to boost their career again. On Saturday I’ll only be practicing for the competition, and I also need to get to the city on Friday afternoon for the dress rehearsal. Dammit! I’d forgotten it’s on Friday, and I really need to tell Pax. Worst-case scenario, I’ll tell him to come to New York and spend the night at my place, then we won’t need to drive back here. Best to do it right away. I get my cell phone out of my purse. “I need to make a quick phone call and get dressed, and then we can start.”
“Sure thing,” he replies as he takes off his hoodie.
My jaw drops because he’s wearing nothing under that, apart from his super attractive abs. “I’ll . . . I’ll just be . . . in . . . in the next room,” I stutter, turning away. Oh my God. That bastard! I take a deep breath after closing the bathroom door behind me and dropping my purse. That sight has been etched forever into my memory. Again! In my head I can still see his hoodie disappearing, uncovering his muscular chest and the fine gold chain with a cross on it. I chase away the persistent images with a shake of my head and call Pax.
“That was fast,” he says as he takes the call.
“Hey, yeah, sorry. I just remembered that I have the dress rehearsal on Friday.”
He sighs. “Are you canceling our shopping tour?”
“No. I was going to ask you if we could drive to the city together and if you’ll spend the night at my place. We could drive back together on Saturday.”
“Sounds good. Are we still meeting on Friday at three?”
“The dress rehearsal starts at three, which is why we’d have
to leave here around noon to be there on time,” I say sheepishly.
“I’m supposed to stay at the shop ’til two, but I can ask John if he’ll let me off early, or if Carrick can manage the afternoon on his own.”
“All right. Take care of that and call me back, OK?”
“Will do,” Pax replies. “Talk later, have fun swinging your booty.”
I giggle. “Later.” Then I hang up and get dressed as quickly as I can. Once again I’m wearing my black practice outfit, but this time the leggings are missing because I forgot them at home in my room. After I put my phone in my purse again, I leave the bathroom.
Gavin’s leaning on the mirror when I emerge. My gaze fixes on him and starts moving over his muscles, but I force myself to look away.
“Spins and lifts. You sure?” he says.
“Yes, I’m sure. I was thinking a bit yesterday, and I decided it’s better than dancing some boring step sequence. And anyway, you want to make progress, don’t you?” I reply.
“I’d like to win the show, but I wouldn’t mind getting kicked out that much, either.”
“I want to win because that means I get a salary bonus,” I inform him.
“Fine, then we’ll just have to get our sh—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn him.
“Shit together,” he teases me with a mischievous smile.
“Well thank you.” I walk over to the ballet barre across from the mirror. “Have you done your warm-up yet?”
“I just got back from working out, so I don’t need to.”
“What were you doing?”
“Some bench presses, and then I went jogging with Alexis.”
“OK.” I lay my leg down on the barre and bend over until my nose touches my shin. Then I bend back.
“Are your bones made of rubber?” he asks with wonder.
“Not quite, but I’m more flexible than others since I’ve been dancing for ages now.”
“But not completely flexible.” He chuckles.
I set my hands down on the floor and rise up into a handstand. “Maybe not, but until now no man has ever complained to me that I’m too stiff,” I tease him and take up posture. “Shall we?”
“Sure.”
“We’re dancing with music today.” I walk over to the ghetto blaster that’s standing on a small table and put on a CD. “We’ll dance a slow rumba.”
Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) Page 14