by Hilary Storm
Don't Close Your Eyes
Hilary Storm
Copyright 2014 Hilary Storm
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This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is available in print at most online retailers.
Cover model: Scott King
Cover photo by: Furious Fotog
Cover design: Bookfabulous Designs
Dedication
To those in my life who've never judged me for jumping to take this journey. And those who understand my passion is real and I'm not even close to being finished with this ride. ~Hil
Don't Close Your Eyes
Chapter One
Olivia
These bags are extremely heavy. I should've asked Michael to help me, but I'd hate to inconvenience him and his new wife. There really isn't anyone else to call for help since they've all stepped out of my 'crazy' world; the sudden changes I made scared everyone off. I can still hear their comments about how unstable I am. 'Who quits their job to write a book?' Yeah, well bitches, I did. I've written five novels in a series and I have plans for so many more, but none of them know that. They seriously think I sit here in my apartment and grieve.
I didn't become a New York Times bestselling author by crying myself to sleep at night. I don't have time for tears; there are places to go and people to meet. I'm headed to a book signing in New York City. It's a privilege to even be invited to this event. A part of me is excited and another is dreading this day.
I just wish I could have one more day with him. I'd love to show him that I'm doing it, even though our friends and family have zero faith in me. He always believed in me and supported me in everything I set out to do. Very few people find a person who truly comes through for them when they have off the wall ideas. You know, like work as an accountant for six years and then one day decide you'd like to write a book. I guess it didn't help that I decided to do that exactly one month from the day he died.
He would’ve been one hundred percent behind me, but he's not here, so I go it alone. Don't get me wrong, I miss him like crazy, but that won’t bring him back to me. As for everyone else, they stepped away from me when I needed the support the most. They got off this crazy train and it doesn't circle back around to pick up passengers who jump ship. Michael’s the only one who has had much to do with me since I 'went crazy'.
To be honest, my emotions were so out of control that it took me spilling it all onto paper for me to be able to cope with everything. I miss him so much and everyone wants me to 'talk' about it. I just can't and it's easier to work through my demons on my own.
I finally work my way past airport security after checking my luggage. Obviously, security isn't getting any easier to pass through because I had to be scanned separately from the others. It's probably because they sense the 'crazy' that the others speak of. This loneliness is partly my fault, but it would've been nice for them to believe in me a little.
The flight is full of people and should be interesting. I haven't been in a crowd of people since the funeral almost a year ago. This is a big step for me, though. A book signing in New York City is huge for an author to attend, never mind the fact that I've always wanted to go there. James and I talked about traveling there together many times.
I sit in my window seat and hope for the peace I need to stay focused on my inner strength to get through this weekend. My ear buds begin to blare one of my favorite Hinder songs and I pull my magazine out of my bag to stay entertained for the non-stop flight across the states.
The passengers keep piling in and I begin to wonder just how large this airplane is. I paid extra money to fly First Class in hopes of staying under the radar of any chatty passengers and kids that don't mind their parents.
I’m trying to stay focused on my article while someone is reaching over my head to load his luggage, completely distracting me. I really should’ve purchased the seat next to me. Why didn't I think of that before now? Even with the help of the flight attendant he has to force the bags into the compartment. How the hell much stuff does he have?
I purposely don't make eye contact with him after he flops into the seat right beside mine. His leg pushes against mine a few times and he seems extremely restless. I'm not sure if it's intentional, but it seems that way.
We begin to prepare for take off so I pull out my ear buds to hear all of the safety information. Watching and listening to the flight attendant give her instructions kind of overwhelms me, but I'm sure it'll all come to me in case of a true emergency. It's not like we'll survive if this huge bird has a real emergency anyway.
I slip the buds back in for take off and begin to read again. It isn't until he presses his leg into mine again that I begin to get irritated. His posture is slouched and he's noticeably oblivious to the fact that he's invading my space with his huge legs spread open like that.
"Excuse me." I yank out an ear bud and let it fall against my chest while I use my hand to gesture toward his leg. I'm sure my face is telling him exactly how I feel, because it never lies. I have a very shitty poker face.
"No worries. You're not bothering me." The shock on my face from his audacity has him smiling.
"You're bothering me. So if you don't mind, please move your leg." I sit back in hopes of him doing as I ask and grab the ear bud to reposition.
"Nah. I don't mind. Sorry, ma'am." Ah HELL NO. He did NOT just call me ma'am. That makes me feel so damn old. I choose to attempt to ignore him and move to plug my ear again, but hell if it doesn't bother me. His stare begins to heat my skin—you know, like the weird feeling you get when you can tell someone is watching you. I shift so that I'm turned more toward the window and try to enjoy the view of the landscape below. The feel of his leg brushing up against mine again causes me to pull further away from him. I notice the touch of his finger on my shoulder and everything inside of me wants to stand up and scream for this creep to get off of me. My head whips around to glare at him when I notice the attendant staring at me in the aisle.
"Would you care for something to drink?"
"Yes, I'll take a water, please."
"One water, one Jack and Coke. I'll be right back." Why do I let it shock me that this character is drinking at 8:30 in the morning? It really shouldn't shock me at all.
"Don't you think it's kind of early to be drinking like that?"
"It's okay. I drink Coke any time of day!"
"Right.... Well, good luck with that."
"You're pretty stiff. You could probably use a drink like that yourself!"
"I'm not stiff, so keep your comments to yourself, if you don't mind."
"I think you are stiff and you have to live a little, but I’ll work on keeping that to myself." Who does he think he is? He doesn't get to judge me after only sitting beside me for a couple of minutes.
"You have no idea what I'm going through, so don't try to judge me based on the few minutes you've seen me today."
"Touché. Let me apologize and maybe we can start over." I wait for his
actual apology and find myself waiting too long. My impatience grows wild and I can't believe I'm letting this guy really get to me. He enjoys my silence a little longer before he finally speaks.
"I’m truly sorry for calling you stiff. Please accept my apology and let me buy you a drink." He watches my face very closely and must finally get a clue that he’s pissing on a ticking time bomb. He extends his hand in an introduction-like stance.
"Liam Brooks." The disgust on my face has to be obvious as I refuse to shake his hand or willingly touch anything of his. His sexy as hell grin flashes across his face and damn if my eyes don't betray me. Those lips are the kind you want to watch someone run their tongue over. There is an awkward silence before I begin to reach out to accept his introduction.
"Olivia Drake." My eyes get caught up in his gorgeous baby blues for a few seconds before I realize our hands are still touching. I pull back slowly and shift back in my seat.
"Olivia Drake, what has you headed to New York City?" Telling a stranger any more about myself is completely out of the question, so I quickly decide to be as vague as possible.
"Business trip."
"Me, too. Do you travel there often?"
"No, this is my first time."
The drinks arrive and he immediately asks for a second drink of the same. "The lady will have what I'm having." His persistence is such a pain in my ass. This flight is going to be torture if I continue to let him get to me so I send the flight attendant a smile in agreement.
He leans back in his seat in such a relaxed state next to my very straight, upright and uptight posture. Taking note of that makes me realize I am stiff and tense. I prefer to call it focused and driven, but those words don't really explain my posture.
I try to relax a bit by leaning the seat back and decide to prove to myself that I'm not stiff. He offers me the Jack and Coke just as I have this epiphany, so I gladly accept his challenge.
Chapter Two
The smell reminds me of him. James loved Jack and Coke. I close my eyes and inhale the memorable scent before I swallow my first sip. The liquor is so strong that it causes me to cough. His laughter pulls my attention from the memories.
"Glad you find this funny."
"Your expressions are very dramatic and I can tell exactly what you're thinking."
"Really? What am I thinking right now?"
"You're thinking.... 'This jackass thinks he's fucking suave and he's nothing but a piece of shit on the bottom of my shoe.'.... aren't you?"
"Well hell. You can read my mind!" His drink arrives and he turns to face me.
"To not forgetting to live life." I try to figure out how, less than an hour ago, I was fighting with my luggage by myself and now I'm drinking to living life with a stranger.
"To living life." This sip goes down a little better, probably because I get a little lost looking at him again. His dark, messy hair does not have me wanting to run my fingers through it. The sleeves of his tight t-shirt aren’t so tight that I can see his muscles bulging and I sure as hell don't want to see what else is under that shirt. Not. At. All.
My eyes travel back up to his face just in time to see that he’s enjoying the view as well. Sitting back quickly, I pull my shirt up a little to hide any cleavage that’s showing. What am I doing? Why am I reacting like this with a complete stranger? Guilt reigns over me for the next few minutes. I try to process the reasons that I feel like this. It's been a long time for me and I know that's part of it. James and I had a very active sex life and I've really isolated myself since his death. I must be sex starved; that would explain why my thoughts are complete chaos right now.
What frustrates me a little is the fact that I know this guy knows he's affecting me like this. Really, what's the harm in flirting with this guy? It's not like I'll ever see him again. This drought could go on for a decade if I don't let myself feel every once in awhile. What if?
What if I let this guy into my life just long enough for some fun and he rocks my world just like I crave? What if he rocks it so hard that I forget my damn name and where I live, which is all totally possible. Writing romance novels really does get to a girl after a while.
What if I try to get somewhere with him and he rejects me? Can my ego take that right now? Being an author really messes with your self confidence and actually traveling to New York at this moment has me nervous if I think about it at all.
What if we have sex and he decides he wants to see me again? That can't happen. Listen to me! I'm already plotting how the story will go and I've hardly said a word to him.
What if I put my ear bud back in and ignore his pompous ass for the rest of the flight and write him into my next novel? I could kill him off in the first chapter just to prove a point. I'll make it gruesome and let it be at the hands of the strong female character.
"What kind of business in New York?" He attempts to strike up the conversation once again. I could tell him that I'm an author, but why tell a complete stranger how to actually find you if he chooses to search for you?
"I'm an accountant. There’s a conference I have to attend." Neither of those statements are a lie, yet I think they will manage to keep my information private.
"Nice. I'm terrible with numbers."
"Yeah, luckily it comes easily to me. What about you?"
"Business as well. I'm doing research for a project that I'm working on."
"Oooooh. Intriguing. You have my attention now! What kind of project would have you traveling to the big city?"
"Family stuff. I promised a loved one that I'd follow up on something very important, and here I am doing what I promised."
"Man of your word, then."
"Most definitely." Okay, this is good for me. Honesty is very important to me, not that I'm looking for a relationship with him, though.
"So tell me, Miss Drake, did it hurt?" Hurt? What is he talking about?
"Not sure what you're asking."
"When you fell from heaven." Oh great! A corny ass pick up line. My laughter becomes obnoxious before I have a chance to stop myself.
"Don't be so sure that's where I'm from!"
"I can tell you're one of those good girls, straight out of the book. You don't get out much and you're okay with that. You probably stay home on the weekends and work." I really hate that I'm this transparent.
"Well, I can tell that you get around and probably use lame ass pick up lines on girls after getting them drunk, just so you can get laid."
"Damn. You see right through my plan!" My face lights up with a smile. Actually, it's one of the first smiles I've had in a very long time. "You have a very nice smile. You really should smile more often." His words make me stop and think about my life for a second. I really don't take the time to smile. My life revolves around being an author and living vicariously through my characters. My reason for smiling is gone and I can't really do anything to get that back.
"Yeah, well I'll try to work on that."
"I always try to find at least one thing every day that'll make me smile." I choose not to tell him how lonely my life is and that there really isn’t a reason to smile outside of my success as an author. Our conversation stops for a few minutes while the attendants serve the complimentary snacks. I shove mine in my bag, knowing New York City is a big place and I'll probably opt out of leaving the hotel in search of food.
"So, Livi, tell me more about yourself." I pause in thought as my mind runs wild with reasons to shut him off from any actual information about myself, but my gut feelings about him win over. Livi as a nickname kind of grew on me when it came across his lips.
"I'm a single, hard working woman who stays at home on weekends and works. I live in Houston and I have a dream of traveling the world one day."
"Very nice! I knew I was right about you. Where would you like to travel?"
"Oh, you know, London, Paris, Australia, Canada. Really, my list could go on forever. I just want to see places that I've heard so much about."
"Sounds
like you need a bucket list."
"Yeah, I guess you could say I already have one. One day I'll be able to do some of the things I have planned."
"I hope so."
"How about you? I've shared a few of my secrets, now it's your turn."
"I'm a single, hard working guy who doesn't stay at home on weekends and I also live near Houston, but I'm originally from Denver. I've traveled quite a bit in my life, but not for enjoyment. Maybe one day I'll be able to travel for leisure. I have five brothers and we all work together."
"That's awesome! I wish I had a brother."
"There have been days where I would've let you have them. But all in all, I'd do anything for every single one of them." He's so serious now that he's talking about his family. His mind seems to wander for a brief second before he quickly returns to give me his full attention again.
"I'd give anything for a family." My statement is cut off by the announcement that our plane will soon be entering turbulence. The thought of a rough flight doesn't settle well with me. I start to look through my phone for another song to play. I'm so used to having music on all day.
"What are ya listening to?"
"I have a huge playlist, I'm just scrolling through."
"Let me choose a song for you." His finger brushes over mine when he reaches for the phone. I glance down as he removes the phone from my hand and notice his leg bumped up against mine again, but this time it doesn't irritate me.
He scrolls through my music and I watch as he hesitates, but I can't see what he's looking at. "Okay. You ready?" The song begins and an instant rush of heat flows through my body. There is no mistaking that beat. I'm not sure where the grin on my face comes from, but it spreads across my lips. I begin to move my leg with the beat, closing my eyes and allowing the music move me. It's impossible not to move your body to this song. He really did just play 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails for me. I'm going to take this as a sign that we will be pushing this a little further than conversation.