I scrubbed a hand over my face. The cottage was darker now. How long was I asleep? I had no idea what time it was or how long I'd been out, but the firm knock at the door startled away all thoughts of time.
I stuck my throbbing thumbnail into my mouth and opened the door without bothering to ask who it was. Of course the second I opened it, I wanted to smack myself for not asking who it was first.
Troy stood in the door way, one hand casually pressed against the frame, a crooked grin on his dashing face. “Hi Nora.”
Panic kicked in of course, so instead of replying with something normal, like ‘hello’, I started fixing my hair, which was sticking up in the back.
He watched me hastily groom until I stopped. “Hey.” I finally said, when I remembered what a dork I must look like. “Sorry, you caught me—”
“Sleeping?” He looked amused by my flustered state, until his gaze drifted to my thumb, still pulsing tiny beadlets of blood. He took my injured hand and pressed my thumb to his lips. Then he leaned in closer, and his lips brushed mine. It was so brief, I wasn’t sure it had happened at all, except for the way my heart was racing.
“No, just relaxing and I fell off the couch and, uh... never mine. Want to come in?” I moved to the side to let him enter. It was too late to worry about how I looked. You can’t unmilk a milked cow, or whatever Granddad used to say.
After hesitating for a second, Troy stepped in. “I came to see if you were alright. You looked flustered earlier, and you weren't at this afternoon’s rehearsal.”
Damn. "Sorry about that, I totally spaced. But I'm fine, thanks." I said, padding into the kitchen. It was easier to play hostess when the fridge had something other than day-old donuts and questionable dairy products.
He studied me briefly, before venturing deeper into the room. “Good. I know Grace can be, pushy, at times."
"Ha. You don't know that half of it." I tilted my head to watch him. Or maybe he did. His brows were furrowed together, and he clearly had something on his mind. But then he often looked like something heavy was on his mind.
Wonder if there was a way into his secrets. Immediately I remembered my own, and shut down the idea. Mine were impenetrable, to anyone who wasn't Grace Strange, why wouldn't his be as well.
Chapter Fifteen
I watched Troy survey the living room. A place that despite our limited accessories, we’d managed to make look almost homey. Well, Kenzie had. I'd pretty much gone along with her decisions. Her money, her choices. Sort of had a Sex in the City meets Little House on the Prairies vibe going on.
He had to have noticed the dozen or so camp rule infractions, just on the main floor alone. Not even I could count how many rules Kenzie broke up in her room. Including the no boys/ no sex rule. That one bit the dust week one.
I stuck my head in the fridge. “Can I get you a soda or a something. Chocolate milkshake, fruit juice, maple syrup? Anything with sugar, we've got it.”
He shook his head. “Not fans of the green juice and kale smoothies I take it.”
I made a face, shutting the door, then grabbed a bottle from Kenzie's stock. "Not so much. But we do have green apple vodka, so..."
He laughed, and his gaze drifted to the staircase, the one leading up to my bedroom. “Are we alone?”
I set the bottle down, my heartbeat picked up tempo. "Yep. Just us."
Silence descended, thick with innuendo. I nibbled my lower lip, and his eyes darkened as he watched me.
"I should go." He said it abruptly, as though being here was suddenly making him very uncomfortable. It wasn't like there was anyone to punish him if he got caught rule-fracturing. He owned the place.
I frowned. "Okay sure. But, why? Worried about getting fired?" I teased.
His half-smile gave me a shiver. "I do have a board of directors to answer to,” he said. “But that’s not it. I just don't think being here is a good idea." He walked toward me, stopping when we were about a foot apart. "There's only so much temptation I can withstand."
I burst out laughing and his eyes widened in surprise.
“I'm— I'm sorry,” I giggled, pushing stray strands of hair out of my face. My tank top strap slid down one shoulder, my cut off jean short were permanently stained with rainbow hues of paint, my hair was pulled back into its usual rats nest ponytail and I hadn't even showered yet. "By temptation, you must mean the candy and vodka bar, because you couldn't possibly mean me."
He didn't crack even a hint of a smile when he closed the distance between us. His fingers reached out to slowly lift my strap back in place. Tiny thrill bumps followed the trail as he grazed my skin.
"This tank top is exactly the reason it's not a good idea for me to stay. The entire time we were together the other day, I barely registered a word you said. I watched your lips and all I could think about was the way they felt against mine."
His hands traveled up to cup my face, and I melted into to him.
His voice lowered to a whisper. "And we're here. Alone. Together."
His eyelids lowered as he focused on my mouth. "Do you have any idea how hard it is not to pull you into my arms again?"
"Then don't fight it." Everything was moving in slow motion and I honestly don't know if I said that out loud or in my head, but I stretched up on my toes, as he leaned in to kiss me softly. Then he pulled back, just as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"For all of these reason Nora, I really think it would be best for me to leave."
"You know, you don't have to." I said quietly. We were alone. We were adults. And we had history. Hot heavy history. Where was the harm? The blood rushing in my ears was so loud I could barely hear him speak. His hands slid up my arms, then gently unhooked them from his neck.
"You wanted something without strings Nora. But that's not something I can do with you. For twelve months I've thought about you. We're already entwined, and I only see that getting stronger." He moved his hands down my sides, over the curve of my hips to rest on my lower back.
I shivered under his touch, then again in frustration when he released me. He was right of course, the way my body responded to his touch, it would be very dangerous for him to stay. And while I could barely admit it to myself, a huge part of me really wanted more than just a summer fling with him. Or a repeat of last year. I was ready to step beyond my imagination and into something real. Strings and all. And that terrified me.
"So until you're ready for that... being here alone with you…" he kissed the top of my head, "very bad idea."
Troy headed for the door, but something stopped him. He moved across the room, pausing in front of the bookcase to look at the stuff we had on display. Photos of me and Kenzie in high school. Pictures of Grandma and Granddad. And one photo he took particular interest in, though I had no idea why. It was an old photo of my house. The one I was born in. I don't remember it, since I'd only lived there til I was five, before my parent's tragedy landed me with my grandparents. But I liked having it. A piece of a past life I didn't remember living. Next to it were some sketches of Darcy, not that I'd tell anyone who it was. That made me uneasy, like having a photo of an old boyfriend on display in front of your current one. Neither of which was the case, but it was impossible not to notice the way Troy’s shoulders stiffened when he saw them.
I took a quick breath. “It’s a sketch I made. There’s this guy I used to dream about.”
He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “Used to?”
I swallowed, uncomfortably. I’d never disclosed anything like this before to a guy, and now I was just spilling secrets to him like we’d know one another forever. “Well, sort of still do sometimes. Never actually met him, because he doesn’t exist, but I decided to draw him.” I shrugged.
I watched his head nod ever so slightly, as he returned his attention to the other photo.
“This house.” He looked back at me, holding the frame. “Where is it?”
I stepped closer. “It was my parent’s house.”
�
�And the bike?” he was still scanning it closely.
I frowned puzzled. “Uhm, it was my favorite? Why?”
“Reminds me of one I’ve seen before.”
“My turquoise two wheeler? It’s weird that I don’t remember getting it, but from what I was told it was the only good thing that came from that house. Wasn’t exactly a happy home, but…” I took the picture, feeling uneasy with the way he was scrutinizing it.
As my hand touched his, a memory of my own flashed in my mind. The photo on Grace’s desk of her daughter, Celeste… the girl who’d supposedly disappeared into her dreams... There’d been something familiar about her, because I had seen her before. That same girl was in a picture with Troy, locked in a passionate embrace. It was the photo that made me bolt from his bedroom that night last year.
I floundered as I put the frame back in its place, nearly dropping it on the floor. “Oh my god,” I blurted. “You knew Grace’s daughter.”
He didn’t seem surprised by my random comment. In fact he didn’t react at all.
“You could say that,” he said slowly, lifting his dark eyes to mine. ”We were engaged.”
My sudden moment of clarity ended with what felt like a dropkick to the gut. “Engaged. Wow. Okay, so...” I had no idea what to say next. This was completely unprecedented in the history of awkward conversations. He was engaged to a girl who’d basically gone missing four years ago. He would have been about twenty-two then. These were the kinds of useless, random thoughts coming to me, as I tried to sort out how I felt about this little info bombshell.
“We were engaged to be married, but I had to call it off. She wasn’t the one I was supposed to be with. We both knew it. She disappeared years before I met you, if that’s your concern.”
He was trying to figure out if my mouth gaped open out of jealousy or fear, I could tell by the look in his eyes. It was as if I’d known him a lot longer than I had. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling, I just knew I didn’t like it. My stomach churned uneasily as I pondered a) what any of this really meant, b) if he was a psychotic kidnapper in disguise, and c) what level of crazy it would be to fall for a psychotic kidnapper.
Troy’s eyes darkened as he looked at me searchingly. “Dreams are more powerful than anyone realizes. Mine were, and I learned that the hard way.”
“So she just took off and, according to Grace, up and disappeared into her dreams? How?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I could go into all of the scientific jargon about how and why this phenomenon occurred, but Nora, all that matters is Celeste is gone. And Grace has dedicated herself to not letting that happen again.”
I shook my head, railing against his words. “I see. And is that the special quality that got me hired here? My dreams, and the fact that I’d make a good case study for you both?”
“Not a case study. A rescue mission.”
Anger trickled down my spine. “I don’t need saving Troy, not by you or Miss Strange. My dreams, aren’t trying to kill me.”
Something flashed in his eyes. A memory, or a thought perhaps, but he didn’t say anything. He took a step back, putting more distance between us. “I should go.” He echoed his earlier thought, only now his voice was grave. “There’s clearly nothing more I can say right now.”
“Good plan.” I said and opened the door for him.
He stepped out and then took off, without another word and without looking back.
Chapter Sixteen
Week two ended with another few busloads of younger kids piling out and filling the camp with a flurry of noise and activity and frenzy. Classes were officially in session. It was game time.
Kenzie was surprisingly excited by their arrival. She’d been seeing someone fairly exclusively, and that seemed to do a lot for her disposition. She even skipped her usual trip to the vodka bar this morning. She wasn’t an alchy, even though her middle name could have been Jello-shots. She worked hard, and partied just as hard. Sometimes harder. And she totally credits the booze for her stellar grade point average. I came by my GPA honestly, light on the partying, heavy on the work-my-butt-off. Which is what I was preparing to do, as I made my way to the theater for the impromptu puppet show we had planned for the new students.
Seeing Troy after the other night was going to be awkward. To say the least. But we were stuck here together. Me locked into a contract I couldn’t afford to get out of. And he was my mentor, supervisor and pretty much my shadow. So that left us with endless moments of awkward. It was foolish for me to hope things between us could be anything more than what they were.
Sue, another instructor and a novice like me, stopped me.
“Hey, April’s sick, probably with mono,” she added, “but anyway Troy wants you to fill in on stage.”
“What? But— but…”
She gave me a gentle shove toward the stage door. “Hurry up. We’re starting soon.”
I sucked in a quick breath and scuttled up the steps into the room overlooking the puppet stage. It was a cramped space, long and narrow with just enough room for people to maneuver their marionettes. To make matters worse, the only two people in the small dark and agonizingly romantic space, would be me and Troy.
Great.
What do I do, ignore the incident? Pretend like nothing had happened? Be a big girl and just come clean? ‘Hey, sorry I couldn’t sleep with you, but I’m kind of attached to the imaginary guy I dream about at night.’ Or, I could not talk to him at all, and get busy immersed in what we were there to do, put on a puppet show demonstration. I looked around in despair. Hopefully he didn’t actually expect me to operate one of these things.
I opted for the third, hoping I’d have to concentrate hard enough on what I was doing to avoid any and all conversation of a non-puppet nature.
That plan had epic fail written all over it. A fact that became blindingly obvious the moment he entered and our eyes locked.
“I- uh. Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t, I mean I don’t--”
It was weird to see him tongue tied, but it made me feel like less of a dork. “You know, I never really wanted to go out with you.” I said and my face immediately flushed.
His brows lifted. “Good to know. Why, did you, then? Was it for the food, because I think they delivered.”
I laughed. “That came out all wrong. It’s just that, I wasn’t really interested in anything serious.” But now, things are different. I paused to think of how to best articulate that, under the present conditions.
“You’re looking for something stringless. I get that. Problem is. I don’t really do stringless. It’s a myth. Once you connect with another person, physically, emotionally. You’re entangled. Strings come with the territory. Wishing them away doesn’t really change it.”
I cocked my head. “Wow. That’s quite an interesting perspective for a guy. Especially a guy that, well...” I gestured toward him. “Looks like you look.”
He looked a little hurt. “Which is?”
“Like a guy who could talk a girl into as few strings or entanglements as he wanted.”
His expression relaxed. “Maybe I like strings. I did major in puppetry after all.”
I had to laugh. “Who does that by the way?”
“Family business. Remember. My grandfather owned a traveling show and well, neither my dad or my step-brother had any interest in it. I had no interest in puppets, but I idolized my grandfather. So, here I am. Running his dream.”
“So Masquerade Studios...”
“Joesephe Egbert Maskerad. My grandfather. Not by blood but in every way the counted.”
“You’re like this riddle wrapped up in a puzzle.”
He laughed this time. “Is that a good thing?”
I thought it over despite my head screaming YES. “It’s a confusing thing. Let’s say that.”
“You’re one to talk.” He nudged me. Then he fell quiet for a beat. “Nora, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a really long time.”
; Ohgod-ohgod-ohgod. Please tell me he wants to kiss me. And please tell me he’s not actually going to. I was a walking contradiction. I wanted him to want to, knowing fully well how complicated it would be if he did, and yet somehow wanting that too.
“What’s that?” I croaked out the words.
He leaned toward me, until his face was an inch from mine. My eyes fluttered shut expectantly as I waited for what was sure to be a life-altering angelic harp producing moment. Suddenly there was the feel of hands fiddling in my hair. A soft tugging sensation. Then nothing.
Frowning, I opened my eyes.
He handed me my hair clasp. “Thanks.”
“Um... you’re welcome?” I blinked at the tortoise shell clasp in my hand.
He put his hand on the small of my back to guide me back up another set of stairs. “I’ll sleep better tonight with at least that one mystery solved.”
I wanted to question it, but my mouth was too busy being disappointed at not getting kissed. Jealous that my hair had gotten all of the attention. As for the rest of me, I was stuck on what he’d said. He’d thought about my hair at night. That alone gave me butterflies in hidden places.
I peeked over the edge of the railing and clung on for my life, letting out a small squeak. It had to be at least 14 feet to the ground. “How high are we going exactly?”
I felt him behind me, urging me to keep climbing. “They say you can tell a lot about a person by what they fear. Almost as much as you by what they keep on their bookcase.”
I stepped onto the platform, surrounded by bars strung with marionette strings. My knees wobbled. “Well, I fear falling to my death in a Phantom of the Opera sort of way, so what does that say about me?”
Entangled Summer Page 7