by Beth Michele
“What’s this?” He points to the small square package on the table. I completely forgot it was there. “It has my name on it.”
“That’s because it’s for you. Just something I thought you might like.” He puts his coffee down with the bag and picks up the present to inspect it. Meanwhile, I bite on my lower lip.
“Feels kind of… heavy.” He grins up at me, raising and lowering it with his palm. “The Mickey Mouse paper is a nice touch.”
“You can open it any day now,” I offer and he chuckles, continuing to take his time and prolonging my agony.
As he rips the paper, the smile I was hoping to see appears tenfold. “Holy shit. A hardcover version of The Sun Also Rises.” His gaze lifts to mine. “My paperback was falling apart.”
“I know.” I watch the moment his confusion turns to recollection and my lips burst at the corners.
“The trespassing incident.” His fingers scroll over the title before he looks up at me. “Thank you. It’s great, Mickey. Really.”
“Sure.” I keep my response casual, trying not to make it as big of a deal on the outside as it feels on the inside.
Vance roams about, book in hand, stopping at various pictures along the wall. “There’s a lot of happiness here.” Something in his somber tone of voice makes me cross the room to be closer to him. He leans in to examine a photo of Zack and me goofing off in the backyard. I think I was maybe fourteen at the time. “Your brother… that face.” He looks back and forth between me and the picture. “It’s you.”
“I know.” I stare at the photo, remembering that day. It was a good one. “Zack used to say that all I had to do was cut my hair short, and I could be him.”
Vance smothers my body with his gaze and I suck down coffee to distract from the heat. “Nah. I don’t think so.”
I swallow hard and way too loud. “Shall we get started?” His chuckle follows me as I make a beeline for the sculpting table. Placing my coffee cup on the metal surface, I busy myself with the task of removing a hunk of clay from the cabinet.
“Where do you want me?” Vance asks, and I have too many answers to that question and no outlet for them, other than trying to hide the blush that refuses to disappear. I point to a nearby stool. “Right there is good.”
He places the book on the table then hops up on the stool, stretching his neck from left to right. “Ready when you are.”
“I can see that.” I smirk, my hands already folding themselves into the clay as if they are one. “I want to ask you a question.”
His chin lifts in a subtle tease. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Have you ever gotten along with your father?”
At first, he seems taken aback by my question, but then his cheeks soften and a hint of a smile crosses his lips.
“There was a time when I thought he was my hero. He was… well, he was the dad who used to take me to karate tournaments and cheer for me instead of yelling whenever I missed a key move. When I was frustrated with math because I sucked at it, he sat with me patiently to help when all I wanted to do was beat my fucking head against the wall.” He laughs, the warm sound filling me up. “My dad used to take me to the library even when he had other things to do. He’d bring his newspaper and stay with me for hours on end because he knew how much I loved being around all those books. I wanted to live there.”
I pause with my fingers immersed in the clay. “So what happened?”
“I don’t know.” He stares past me and I know I’m losing him. “Life I guess.” His lips flatten into a line, a hardness forming around his eyes where there was none. “He’s not the same person anymore.”
Though I know this might upset him, I’m unable to hold back. “Don’t you think your mom becoming ill had an effect on him? It has to be really difficult.”
“Yes,” Vance agrees, his eyes returning to mine. “You’d think it would be, right? But as far as I can see, he’s gone on with his life. It’s business as usual, while my mother is wasting away in there.” He looks away then back to me. “Mind if we change the subject? It’s not my favorite one.”
“Sure.”
“Now I have a question for you. What was up with that dude in the bar? I can’t picture it. It’s just that you’re so….” With my hands firmly planted in the clay, I wait for the words he searches for on the ceiling. But they never come. “How did you guys even hook up?”
The single breath I held tight releases itself and I tell him the not so sordid story. “It’s not that deep, really. We met at an art show. His parents were benefactors and… I don’t know. He loved art, too, and he knew a lot about it. And we just… clicked.”
His gaze beams against my face like bright sunlight. “I don’t know shit about art, but I can spot an asshole a mile away.”
My laughter echoes throughout the room. “Good to know.” Still trying to reconcile it in my own mind, I go on. “I don’t know. He fooled me, I suppose. I thought he was something he wasn’t. I’m just not that… experienced, I guess. I told you, dating has never been a priority for me.”
The words until now roll around in my brain. This thing with Vance. It feels like… something. I want to reach for it, like grabbing a star from the sky.
“Why not?” he asks, dragging me from my momentary daze.
The structure of Vance’s jaw takes shape and I tilt my head to admire it. “My studies and my art were my focus. Besides,” I add, “Avery had enough interest for the both of us. I think she started dating when she was nine.” My hands still on the clay as my mind sends me back to fifth grade. “I remember this one time, she had me lure Steven Corbett onto the playground just so she could try to kiss him. She told me he liked those double-stuffed Oreos so she bought a huge pack and I basically bribed him.”
“Did it work?”
My answering smile gives me away. “Of course it did. We’re talking about Avery now. She gets—”
“Geez, Mickey. Is my head that big?” My eyebrows lift and he gestures with his chin toward the partially formed likeness. “The sculpture?”
“Ohhh. It’s a work in progress. And your head isn’t big.” I smirk. “It’s round.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek, trying to muffle a grin. “But your hair….” Dried clay sticks between my fingers and I tear a paper towel from the wall dispenser. As I scrape it off, I walk over to him. “I can’t see your eyes. Your hair is in the way.” I reach out, my hand pausing in mid-air. “May I?”
Wariness flashes in his eyes. He pushes past it and gives me a nod accompanied by a gradual swallow. My only thought—this is my free pass to touch him—and I intend to take full advantage of it.
GENTLE FINGERTIPS DANCE across my forehead, sweeping the fine hair over my brow. My breathing stutters then halts, her touch like the softest fucking kiss along my skin. “Vance,” she whispers. “You can breathe.” My shoulders sag as her hand disappears. Heat rises everywhere she touched, electricity crackling in the narrow space between us.
Needing to break the tension, I say whatever words come to mind. “You were just using this as an excuse to touch me.”
“Maybe.” An absence of teasing in her voice makes my heart thunder inside my chest. It’s been a long time since anyone has touched me like this—with something approaching tenderness. And while it’s completely foreign to me, with her, it almost feels necessary. She feels necessary.
And I’m fucking scared. But I’m sick of being scared.
The world I’ve constructed for myself, for years, is falling apart. My control is slipping. The walls crumbling and I need to scramble to put them back up. Only I can’t. Something about Ember makes me helpless to do any of it. I’ve shut myself down for too long and part of me wonders what it would feel like to let someone in, to share that closeness I’ve denied myself. Still, fear chokes me until I want to pry its hands from my neck.
“Vance, hey.” Her soft tone invades my thoughts and I stare up into the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. “You disappea
red on me.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I lift my index finger to her skin and gently rub the area below her cheekbone. “You’ve got a bit of clay here.” Her breathing changes and she mashes her lips together, drawing my eyes lower. I wonder what her mouth would feel like pressed against mine. Her tongue comes out to wet her lips and my desire grows.
“Okay, well, I can see your eyes now, so….”
She turns and I grab her wrist. “Ember, wait.” The expectant look in her eyes makes me want to be worthy—of what I don’t know. But damn it, that little voice in the recesses of my brain won’t leave me alone, demanding I pay attention to who I am. “Never mind.”
“Okay.” She paints on a smile, unable to hide the edge of disappointment in her voice. Little does she know, the disappointment is fucking mutual. Only the person I’m disappointed with… is myself.
“WHEW. I DIDN’T realize how exhausting being a model is.” I jump down from the stool, craning my neck in a circular stretch.
“Yes, the energy exertion is over the top.” She flings me a grin. “I’m surprised you can walk.” She carries the sculpture to a three-tier silver shelf. I can’t get over how much it resembles me.
“Holy shit, Ember.” I walk closer for a better view. “This is fucking fantastic. You are seriously talented. It actually looks… like me.” Yet as I study it more, something is different about my face, my eyes. I’m unable to pinpoint what it is, though.
Pride exudes from her every limb, she glows with it. “I hope so.”
“No, I mean it.” I hold her gaze. “This is definitely your calling.”
“I’d like to have my own gallery someday,” she admits. “Maybe even in New York City.” Her voice is not as confident as I’d expect it to be. Certainly not after seeing her work.
“It sounds more like a question than a statement. Is that what you really want?”
“Yes,” she affirms, insecurity sticking to her tone.
“Then go get it.” And I hope my smile conveys how much I believe in her.
Her eyes follow the path of her finger as she trails it over an elaborate sculpture of a bird. “You make it sound so easy.”
I bend down until she has no choice but to look at me. “Isn’t it?”
“I’m just…,” she drops her gaze, “not used to going after what I want.”
“Well, get used to it. Because you’re going places, Ember Bennett. Trust me on that.”
And I wish I could go with you.
“Thanks, Vance.” Her eyes come back to mine, alight with happiness, and warmth seeps into my chest.
My focus goes to the shelf and her various pieces of artwork. A sculpture catches my attention; two hands reaching out for one another, their fingers barely touching. I lift it carefully, studying the detail. “I really like this one.”
She traces the outline of the hand, a story playing out behind her eyes. “That’s me… reaching for Zack.” She glances up, allowing me to see her. And God, so much is there. Sadness, yes, but mostly sweetness and beauty. Memories of days passed. Suddenly, I’m envious.
Nothing I could say right now would do this piece justice, so I opt for silence. But I do reach for her, stroking the side of her smooth cheek with my fingers. Thick lashes flutter closed and she leans toward my touch, bringing her mouth nearer to mine. It makes me think about how much I want to kiss her. I’m not thinking about a kiss that would lead to me getting into her pants. Maybe it’s something I already knew but refused to admit. It isn’t the same with Ember as it was with other girls. I only want to put my mouth on hers; a soft brush of lips, one kiss. Except I know with her—one kiss would never be enough.
She opens her eyes and catches me staring. Her chest rises and falls at a steady pace, cheeks hold a pink flush. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t push me away if I tried to kiss her. Apprehension tugs at me like a thread waiting to unravel. I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. It’s not the kiss I want, but it is the one she needs right now.
“This piece is really beautiful,” I whisper, her smile touching my chin. I wonder how this could be bad for me. Isn’t a short burst of happiness better than none at all? Then again, she’ll end up broken—and I’ll end up with nothing. But I can’t deny that I want to be near her. She zaps me with life in a way that I can’t avoid—I’m not sure I want to anymore. I rest my palm against her cheek and pull back to look at her. “Listen, I want to take you somewhere. Are you up for another road trip?”
Mischief lights her smile. “That depends.”
“On….”
“Two things,” she explains, and my brows lift in anticipation. “One, I pick the music. And two, I want to go in the Mustang.”
I tweak her nose and she laughs. “You drive a hard bargain Mickey, but okay.”
“Let me get the rest of this clay off my hands and then I’ll be ready.” She walks off toward the bathroom and I cock my head to the side, staring at the sway of her hips in those cut-off jean shorts. Right before she disappears into the bathroom, she peeks over her shoulder. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Jesus, this girl.
She shuts the door and I rock on my feet until my gaze strays to the book. I wander over to swipe it from the table, smiling more than I probably have a right to. Ember emerges after a minute, drying her hands on a towel. “Okay, I’m ready.” On the way up the stairs, she gives me a curious sideways glance. “Anything I need to bring on this mystery trip?”
“Nope, just you.”
Inquisitive eyes drill into mine as she continues to search for clues. “No hints, huh?”
“Nope.”
She’s quiet after that, but it’s obvious she is chomping at the bit to know where I’m taking her. A pit of nerves grows in the corner of my stomach. I’ve never shared this part of me with anyone else. While I know it’s not crazy fucking exciting, something tells me Ember will appreciate it.
AN HOUR INTO the ride, when we still haven’t reached our destination, Ember shifts in her seat. “Okay, where are we going? You’re not driving me to Vegas, are you?”
“Vegas?” I tsk, veering over to the left to pass a slow-ass car in the other lane. “I’m not sure I could tolerate your company for fifteen hours.”
She flicks my arm while giving me the evil eye. “Have you always been this sarcastic?”
“Only when I like someone,” I retort, the words sliding free without reservation—because they’re the truth.
That shuts her up for a little while. Actually, that shuts us both up. Me, not knowing what to do with this shitstorm of feeling inside my chest. Like a tsunami I’m not prepared for. My heart doesn’t seem big enough for all this emotion. Once again, my head tries to convince my heart that it doesn’t matter. But for the first time in my life, my heart says ‘fuck you’ and refuses to listen.
A few minutes tick by and I steal a glance at Ember. She ducks her head and peers out the windshield. “Look at that sky, there aren’t any clouds. It’s like a sheet of blue,” she points out, and it strikes me that she has this sense of wonder about the world—almost childlike in ways. Somewhere along the line I’ve lost that, or maybe I’ve pushed it away. Because, what’s the point? “It’s definitely a perfect day for….” She hums to the music. “Where did you say we were going again?”
“I didn’t.” I grin. “But I’ll give you credit for being persistent.” With a quick look over at her, I add. “You must’ve been a real joy on long car trips when you were a kid. Are we there yet?” I tease, and she snorts, a smile creeping onto her cheeks.
“Okay, you found me out.” She confesses with a spring in her voice. “But I will tell you, my dad was always prepared. He used to buy loads of those word finds and crossword puzzles. Anything he could do to keep us busy, because he knew he was going to have his hands full.” She persists, and I find myself hanging onto her every word. I want to learn all there is to know about Ember Bennett. “I always had to sit in the middle because Avery and Zack argued like
crazy. So I was kind of the peacekeeper.”
“Why didn’t they get along?”
“Until recently, I might’ve said it was because they were too different.” She pauses and I can hear the wheels spinning. “But something Avery said… I think she was jealous of his relationship with me. The fact that we were so close.”
Our exit approaches and I steer the car into the right hand lane. “Your sister is like a fireball.”
“Yeah, she is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pull something from her purse. A pack of cigarettes, I think. It makes no sense. I’ve never seen her smoke before and it seems contrary to her character. “Want one?” she offers, and I shake my head.
“I try to stay away from those things.” We reach the red light at the end of the exit ramp and roll to a stop. She stares down at the pack then up to me, frowning, as if she doesn’t understand why I don’t want to put death into my lungs.
“You don’t chew gum?”
“Huh?”
“They’re Bubble Gum Cigarettes,” she reveals, a smile teasing her lips.
“Are you shitting me?”
“No, why would I be. See….” She unrolls the white wrapper and shoves the pink wad into her mouth. I give her the side eye and her gaze narrows on mine. “Problem?”
“Nope. Just making a mental note.” I tap the side of my head. “Mickey Mouse, Bubble Gum Cigarettes. Anything else I should know?” I quickly give the inside of her bag the once over before sliding my eyes back to the road. “Harboring any Red Hots, Doritos maybe?”
“Ew. Those are disgusting, and so bad for you.”
I grin wide as the light turns green. “They are.”
She makes a clucking sound with her tongue. “I don’t know how you stay in such great shape eating all that crap?”
“You checking me out, Mickey?” And I don’t need to see her face to know her cheeks are pink.
“You’re not exactly hard on the eyes,” she blurts, and a surprised laugh lifts itself from my chest. Although I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore. She says whatever she thinks, and I love that she doesn’t flip her hair over her shoulder or bat her eyelashes to try to get my attention. All she has to do is exist for that to happen.