by Lori Wilde
“Yes, that’s exactly what you are. Only you’re the one conflict that makes me want to say screw the policy.”
My entire body suddenly felt like day old Jell-O. Damn, he really was good-looking. Movie-star-heartthrob good-looking. Kenzie had that part right. “So, what is it I’m craving?” I whispered. I got more breathless by the second.
I could hear his sharp inhale.
Without breaking eye contact, he pointed to the side.
I half turned with my arms crossed, following his direction.
Flames leaped from a circular brick firepit, surrounded by a cushioned sofa and lounge chair wide enough for two. A chunky knit oatmeal blanket draped over the back of the chair, and on the seat, a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a package of chocolate.
My gaze sprang back to his. “S’mores?”
He grinned. “S’mores.”
I bit back my smile. “Isn’t that contraband? You could get expelled for having such illicit items in your cabin.” I mocked Miss Strange’s mini lecture.
“You mean like Kenzie’s vodka and gummy bears?”
I laughed out loud. “You know about those? Of course you do. You know everything here. I forgot.”
His hypnotic dark eyes studied me for several quiet seconds. “Not everything, Nora. Some things have to be explained.”
The subtle implication of his words swept over me. He meant me taking off on him the night we were together. Due to all the chaos erupting in my head and tummy, it took me a beat to reply. “I mean, in hindsight, it was stupid really,” I said, wandering over to the lounge chair.
He gestured for me to sit, and I did.
“It was the picture.”
“Okay…” He nodded, then combed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Which picture?”
“The one of you with that girl. You looked so happy together. And at first I was jealous, but then I realized I could never have that with you. And since we had no chance at a future, I figured...” I looked away. “I didn’t want my first time to be with someone I could never be with.”
He was quiet as he sat next to me. “You got all of that from a picture,” he said.
I answered with a shrug.
“Why? Tell me why you could never be with me, Nora.”
Unintentionally, I leaned against his arm. I’d never felt this safe before. Except for the last time I’d met him. He had this effect on me, this way of making me feel like everything was going to work out. That we could be happy. And it was an illusion. It had to be. Because what felt that good wasn’t real, and what hurt like hell was. Again, my self-preservation kicked in, and the familiar impulse to run tugged at me. But I forced myself to stay put.
“There’s something you keep locked up. I see it in your eyes now; I saw it then. You can tell me. I promise you, I’ll understand. And I can probably even help.”
“No, not with this.” A tear stung the corners of my eyes. It shocked me. I didn’t cry. Not ever. Certainly not over a guy, real or otherwise. “Never mind, Troy. It was a long time ago. Just know I’m sorry if I, you know, hurt your ego or anything. It wasn’t you; it was me.” Ugh. I was making myself gag on my own platitudes and clichés.
He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face toward his.
I sucked in a full breath and held it.
“Nora, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. We’ve always been connected—” He stopped himself and rephrased his words. “I mean, we will always be connected by that night. It meant something to me. This...you being here...means something.” Then he leaned in closer, and his gaze lowered to my mouth. Long thick lashes partially hid his eyes. “Tell me what it is you really want.”
The words caressed my lips, and my eyes drifted closed as I waited, aching for him to kiss me.
“What do you want, Nora?” his voice lowered.
“I want...” I was barely able to speak over the electric tingles racing all over my body. It had been a long time since we’d been this close, but the memory of it came back full force. His hands on my bare skin, the feel of his touch. His hips pinned against mine. Our fingers entwined. His lips on my throat, on my breasts, trailing lower. The sensation swelled deep in my core, begging to be reenacted.
“Tell me...” he whispered.
“I want...” The words were just a murmur as they hovered on the tip of my tongue. I want you. All of you this time. And I don’t want to stop, and I don’t want to run away. But something stopped me, something deep within made me open my eyes and release the breath I’d been holding.
“Yes.” He inched closer.
“I want...s’mores,” I said. The second the words were out of my mouth I wanted to die. Ten long agonizing deaths. What was wrong with me? I bit down on my lip, shaking my head a little. But it was better this way. Safer.
“S’mores.” He repeated it, and I could hear the hint of amusement in his voice, though it had yet to register on his face, which was still dangerously close to mine.
He pulled back, and again I wanted to smack myself.
“Then s’mores it is.” He rose to collect the skewers while I hyperventilated on the lounge chair.
I couldn’t have asked for a better night.
I popped a sticky, partially charred marshmallow into my mouth and let it dissolve. “So how did you meet Miss Strange?” I asked, licking my fingertips.
He leaned back, relaxing against the snowy cushions. “Grace? She found me sleeping in a dumpster after I ran away from my group home, again. I was eight.”
“Oh wow. That’s...awful.” My brows pinched tightly.
He didn’t seem troubled by it. “She took me in and had me placed with a wealthy foster family. The people who became my parents. When the bad dreams started, Grace was there to help.”
Whoa. He had recurring dreams too? Every part of me wanted to ask what they were about.
“Mom was a religious nut, worried I was possessed and needed an exorcism. Dad was the scientist. He collaborated with Grace and fully supported her theories and research. But it was my grandfather who shared his love of the philosophy. I inherited my passion for art and of course puppetry from that man.”
“Ah, so that’s where the puppetry course addition came from.” I smirked a little. “’Cause you so don’t look like the kind of guy who’d be interested in that. You know, as a profession.”
His head dipped lower, and he shrugged. “There’s something surreally appealing about controlling your own creation through tugging a few magical strings. Sort of like life. Minor tweaks and adjustments are all that’s needed to make whatever you want happen.” He looked up at me. “Guess I inherited my philosophical side from him too.” He grinned.
I wasn’t sure if it was possible to pinpoint the exact moment you knew exactly how you felt about someone, but this felt like that moment. Listening to this science-minded philanthropic artist with a badass tattoo talk so fondly of things like magic and art and family... I was nearly swept off my feet. He wasn’t the kind of guy you crushed on; he was the kind of guy you fell hard for, and that thought terrified me. I really didn’t want to get entangled with anyone, especially someone like him. And yet, as we sat there in the waning light, watching the flames dance in the twilight, I realized that even though I knew that the most we could ever have between us was a summer fling, I was falling for him.
I was falling for Troy Bellisaro. A guy I hardly even knew.
Oh man…
I was so screwed.
I cleared my throat. “What were your dreams about?” I knew it was a personal question, but I had to ask.
His eyes narrowed as he surveyed me. “What are yours about?”
My lips pressed into a tight line. It was a fair request, quid pro quo, and yet, I wasn’t ready to shatter the magic building between us with talk of another guy. Troy read my silence and gave a thin smile. “Maybe one day we’ll be ready to share every part of ourselves with each another. Even the dark parts. But it do
esn’t have to be this day. We have time.”
I breathed an internal sigh of relief and at the same time looked forward to the day I could fully expose all of myself to him. Then wondered if that day would ever exist.
When we finished eating half the package of marshmallows, he sat next to me by the fire. I tucked my feet up under me and leaned against his arm.
He delivered on his promise of giving me exactly what I wanted. The s’mores were perfect. He was perfect. I was the one who was a mess. Literally and figuratively.
“You have marshmallow stuck to your cheek,” he said and reached over to pull it off. Again, his touch set off a series of explosions. It was pretty hard to vocalize a reply with his fingers touching my skin, but I managed to murmur, “Thanks.”
The silence fell like a curtain between us again, and we watched the flames dance without speaking for a time.
Troy broke the silence first, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Maybe we should get back. Don’t want to start rumors on day one.”
“Nobody wants that,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
He offered his hand to help me up and then walked me back to my cabin. As much of a gentleman as any dream guy could ever be. But he wasn’t a dream; he was real, and real came with complications.
His eyes narrowed in contemplation for a moment, then he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Good night, Nora. See you in the morning, and sweet dreams,” he said.
“Yeah, you too.”
As I watched him jog back down the path, I wondered if there was a chance Troy might star in my dreams tonight, instead of Darcy. Warm amber lights flickered on along the porch, and the twilight sky was filled with the sounds of night, crickets and fireflies performing at their best. I climbed the steps and entered my new home. If this was what the summer had in store, I could get used to roughing it. I was so blissed out as I shut the door to my perfect night that I completely forgot Troy hadn’t explained the amnesia act he put on when we met this morning.
Chapter Twelve
The first week flew by in a series of trainings and getting the students settled, while fumbling my way around the puppetry department. It seemed like I’d be spending the bulk of my time in that department, since I’d been hired late and all of the sculpting positions were full.
I’d met with Grace a few times during the first week, answering, or rather, dodging a lot of questions about my childhood. So far, she hadn’t brought up anything more about my dreams, and I was good with keeping it that way.
Troy and I had spent a lot of time together during the day and some evenings, mostly going over job-related stuff, and while there was nothing even remotely close to our s’mores night, I enjoyed spending time with him and appreciated that he wasn’t pushing things.
But at night, it was Darcy who stepped into my dreams, taking me to places both familiar and strange. There was no explaining it, but being with Darcy felt as natural as keeping Troy at arm’s length. Because as always, Darcy left me feeling completely safe from the unnamed things that haunted me.
When I got up the next morning, Kenzie was already mixing a drink. Not tea or coffee like a normal person would be making at seven a.m. Vodka.
I plodded into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes. “Kinda early, no?”
“For what?” She continued to pour a few fingers of vodka into a coffee mug and followed it with some pineapple juice. Then she grabbed a lime lollipop from her candy stash on the counter and popped it into her mouth.
My stomach rolled over twice as I shuffled toward the coffee machine.
Climbing up onto the barstool at the counter, she examined her schedule for the day. They arrived each morning, slid under the door, ready and waiting for us when we got up.
She looked over her programs and groaned. “Not another improv class,” she muttered around the lollipop sticking out of her mouth.
“Stop complaining. How you managed to sleep your way into the position of drama department-head while I’m stuck making Pinocchios, I have no idea.” Supposedly, every department head position had only been given to returning staff, yet after one magical night with Steve, who oversaw the drama camp, and boom, suddenly a spot opened up for her.
She giggled with pride. “I know, right. And you’re the one who’s dating the owner. You should have your pick of jobs.” She winked.
I added milk and honey to my coffee, then sat next to her, tucking one foot under me. “I’d hardly call what we’re doing dating.”
“Alright, I know it’s been a while, but sequential evenings out together, alone... Those are called dates.” She drew out her sentence and pronounced each word slowly.
“I’ve seen him spend time with lots of the staff, Kenzie.”
“You are rockin’ some serious denial. I doubt he stares at them all with bedroom eyes like he does you.” She held up her hands. “Quit being all badass-no-one-can-hurt-me-again, and let it in.”
“Okay, Dr. Phil. Any more love advice from someone who’s never had the same guy in her bed more than twice?”
“Hey, I had that goth guy at least five times. And so not the point, we’re discussing you and your ‘no strings attached’ rule,” she said, making air quotes. “You’ve got to let it go, hon. We get it, fast and furious isn’t your vibe. But Troy is real, and he’s pretty amazing, and he’s rock-hard into you, despite all of your crazy.”
I ignored her, took a sip of coffee, and scanned my schedule. First off, an appointment with Dr. Strange. My turn to groan. “God. I hate these meetings. Care to share some of your good luck? You signed on the dotted line and landed the perfect summer job. Meanwhile, I signed in my own blood, then watched as Grace Strange locked my soul away in her mahogany file cabinet.”
Kenzie popped her lollipop out of her mouth. “Now who’s being dramatic?”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’ve forced into counseling, are you.”
“Did you ever stop to think this could be good for you, honey? That maybe the cosmos lined it up for you as a gift, not a punishment.”
“The cosmos. Are you for real right now?” I gave a sarcastic laugh.
“Yup.”
“Anyway, when have the cosmos or any other celestial body ever been on my side? They weren’t on my side when they took my parents and left me to be raised by my grandparents.”
“True.”
“They weren’t on my side when they took my grandmother. And they definitely weren’t on my side when they gave Grandfather lung cancer and dementia one week, then foreclosed on his house the next.”
“But—”
“So don’t talk to me about this being part of a divine plan. It’s not. It’s just more of the crappy luck I’ve been cursed with my entire life.”
“Way to be positive, buzzkill. Just sayin’, there’s a higher purpose for everything, Nora, including you.”
She was as serious as I’d ever seen her. But I didn’t care; I was closed off to anything else she had to say. “So what’s the higher purpose to making me fall in love with someone from my dreams and branding me a lunatic? Huh?” I waved my arms around me. “What’s the great plan there?”
Kenzie leaned her head against her hand and studied me. “Hon, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’d be less tense if you had sex. Just once, even.”
Staring at her a moment, I shook my head. “Annnd, I’m leaving now.” I slid down from the barstool, yanked my hair back into a pony, and snapped an elastic in place.
“Whoa.” She stood up quickly. “Just chill out. Here,” she frowned, “have a drink.”
“I don’t want one.”
She dropped her lime-green lollipop into her glass of vodka pineapple juice and handed it to me. “You’re getting all steamed over nothing. Time for a come to Jesus moment here.”
Hands resting on my shoulders, she leaned in.
“W-what?” I asked.
“So you have to meet with the counselor, teach a few snot-nosed kiddos ho
w to make puppets, and put on a play. And heaven forbid you might even get fully laid by Troy this time.”
I blushed.
“A few weeks of hell, and at the end you walk away with more money than you’ve ever earned in your entire lifetime. So just suck it up.”
“I am sucking it up,” I said, moving out of her reach. I took a mouthful of her revolting concoction and handed it back, my face twisted in disgust as I swallowed.
She laughed.
“I’m here, aren’t I? And this is me sucking it up and going to meet with the camp counselor. Again.” I stormed toward the door, grabbing my sweater on the way.
“Don’t be mad, Nora.” Kenzie sighed. “You always do that when the truth triggers you. You deflect and get pissed off, instead of facing what’s really going on.” She followed me to the door. “Just wait—”
“Nope. Gotta go,” I waved. “The cosmos is waiting.”
Chapter Thirteen
I took the steps up to Grace Strange’s office two at a time. My feet slowed and then stopped when Troy caught my eye. He was exiting as I was about to enter. Grace was right behind him.
“Hey.” There was the trace of his half-smile, but only a trace.
“Morning,” I said, and my gaze darted to Grace, who was watching us like television.
He stepped to the left at the same time I did, and we collided. Heat coursed through me, and there was no way my cheeks weren’t flaming red.
“Um, sorry.”
“No, my bad.” He turned sideways and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “After you.”
I laughed. “Thanks. Guess I’ll see you later. During class,” I added as I felt Grace’s gaze intensify.
Troy gave an awkward nod, and without saying a word to Grace, he left.
I followed her down the wide hall filled with lush tropical vines entwined around mammoth statues, into her equally ornate office and waited for her to shut the door and sit down.
Grace folded her long fingers under her chin, and peered at me, her head cocked to the side.