by Scott, S. L.
“Good morning, cherry cheeks.” He seems to have all these nicknames for me, and I’m starting to follow the pattern of when he uses them.
Sunshine when he’s in a lighter mood.
Cherry cheeks when he’s in the mood since he’s caused my cheeks to pink in the first place.
Meadow Soleil is used when he feels close, the commitment we’ve made to each other filling his heart.
Meadow when he demands my attention.
I love each and every one of them, just like the sides of him when he uses the terms of endearment.
Dipping a finger down his chest, I go lower. “Do you want to go to the gym to work out with me?”
Kissing my shoulder, he replies, “We can work out right here between the sheets.”
I play along because I’m determined to get out of this bed today . . . I think. I do love it here, though. “Tempting. We don’t even have to get dressed if we stay in.” Tapping his nose, I add, “But if I don’t leave now, my whole day will be gone, and I would’ve gotten nothing done.”
“You would have gotten me done.” His hand dives under the covers, and he readjusts before touching me between the legs. “Anyway, it’s too early. What’s gotten into you?”
“You. Too many times last night.”
Lying back, he keeps his eyes with the happiness embedded inside trained on me. “Is there really such a thing as too many when it feels so fucking good?”
Much to my dismay, I toss away my plans and reach under the covers because I’m not able to resist him. Running my hand over his stomach, I feel the taut muscles clench and release, reacting to my touch. When I go lower, I take hold of his hardness, his body ready for me. “You’re ridiculously impossible. I don’t think one woman can satisfy your needs.”
Covering my hand with his, he stops me from taking it further. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the only one who satisfies me. I don’t need anyone else.” As I move to sit up, his eyes try to read mine. “Do I satisfy you?”
“You do.” I prop myself up, resting on my hand. “We eat. We have sex. We lounge. We talk. We laugh. We eat. Always with the eating. You’re making me fat and happy.”
He gives me a wink and a sweet morning smile. “And the problem is?”
“I’m trying to find a routine when we’re together. We have none. After all these months, I eat terribly, and I drink all the time when I’m here. LA is just a nonstop party. It takes me a week to recover after every visit. So I think it would be good for us, or even just me, to bring a little of my home routine with me.”
Caressing my cheek, he says, “I like hearing you talk about a future with me.”
“Speaking of the future, how long are you planning on living at this hotel? It has to be costing you a fortune, and as much as I love having the best mac and cheese in the world delivered to the door at three a.m., are you planning on staying forever?”
“Do you want to change hotels for a new scene?”
“No,” I say, laughing. “It’s not about me. I’m just wondering what your plans are for staying in LA.” I keep my eyes on him, wanting to see every one of his reactions, if he gives me any. “I mean, you still pay rent on the place in Austin, and you never even visit it when you fly back.”
“It’s like paying for a storage unit until I have time to go through all the shit in there.” He gets out of bed—fully naked and incredible to watch. Stone-carved abs, athletic legs, strong arms . . . great ass. His back is to me as he takes in the view of LA. “You know I bounce between houses when you’re not here. I stay at Laird’s place down by the beach or with Jet, sometimes with Rivers. I just haven’t been ready to commit.”
Dragging the sheet over me when I lie back, I ask, “To a place? To the city? To what, Dave?”
He glances back over his shoulder, not hiding any part of his body. I hope he doesn’t hide what’s on his mind. “It sounds dumb, but I always thought I’d buy a place when I was buying it with someone . . .” The way the last word drifts from his lips and fades away, it feels like the rest is left unsaid.
I’m not naïve. He doesn’t mean a roommate. Excitement heats my cheeks because I want him to ask me about the potential for us living together one day. “A friend or a girlfriend? Someone like a wife?”
I need his words. I need to know what he’s thinking so I understand where he’s at with us. Maybe I’ve taken our time for granted, enjoying the present since the future holds fears I’m not ready to face.
His gaze works its way up from my body to my eyes. “Have you given any more thought to LA after graduation?”
I try not to come off as surprised. I understood the direction where we were headed. Hell, I threw some coal on the fire to help get our train here. LA is one thing, but I hadn’t thought about us living together officially. We do now when we’re in the same city but not sharing bills and money. I take a breath, trying to block out the words of my parents, and focus on the good that Dave and I are. So good. “I have three hundred dollars to my name, Dave. There’s no way I’d be able to buy a home with you. I don’t have the money to even consider that right now. I need a job and—”
“It’s never been about the money. You know that.”
“To you, the man with all the money, it doesn’t matter. To me, it does. How am I an equal in a relationship where everything is literally given to me?” I’m inclined to hide in the bathroom until this conversation goes away, but I can’t do that. Not without hurting him in the process. “I have to stand on my own two feet. I have to know I can.”
“It always comes back to the same bullshit with you. I can say a million things, but you only hear one.” His steps are heavy, matching his mood. I watch in shock as he begins to dress.
“What is happening? Why are you so upset?”
His eyes shoot to mine when he’s standing in a pair of gym shorts. “It will never matter how much I tell you I care about you, how much I love you. All you will hear is that I want to control you, own you, or take away your dreams.” Pulling a T-shirt over his head, he pops through the hole and then grabs a pair of socks and his sneakers.
By the way he’s dressed, I’m thinking we’re going to work out, but something tells me to wait, to stay where I am, a vibe he’s exuding. A vein in his neck is prominent; the way his jaw clenches worries me. I sit all the way up, holding the sheet to my chest and dragging the cherry pendant across the chain anxiously.
Like an agitated tiger that’s been caged too long, he moves across the room to stand in the doorway, and says, “You know what the saddest fucking part is?” Waiting for an answer, he blows out a harsh breath, but then loses his patience. “You don’t even know what your fucking dreams are.”
“I just turned twenty-two,” I snap, all compassion for his bad mood gone. Turning to walk out, he stops once more, looking back knowing the next step he takes makes or breaks us. I point at my chest. “Me not knowing everything I want to do in life isn’t the saddest part. You making me feel less for it is.”
His head is lowered as his shoulders lose the fight he was holding on to, a grimace taking over.
Only his eyes are aimed in my direction when he says, “You never even asked me why I was late the other night.”
“You had a meeting. You told me.”
“Okay.” Then he turns his back to me and walks away. Seconds later, the door to the suite shuts with a loud click of the lock.
Okay? I throw off the sheet and go after him. When I open the door, I peek out, hiding since I’m not wearing clothes. “Dave?” I’m greeted by an empty hallway and his echoing name.
What the hell just happened?
Moving back inside, I scramble to find my phone. When I spot it on the coffee table, I call him, but a ring in the bedroom tells me it’s here with me.
Unlike him.
35
Meadow
All the motivation I had to exercise and get back on the health track was left in the suite. With a glass of champagne in hand, I sit
numbing myself on a purple couch in the middle of the Tonio Vittori store in Beverly Hills.
Nikki turns in front of a three-way mirror to check out her backside while wearing a pair of her signature sneakers. Squinting, I realize they literally have her signature horizontally on the back of the shoes. The lead singer of Faris Wheel has become a style icon and a brand in the last year. It’s incredible when she still acts so down to earth.
Holli Hughes Outlaw was dragged into the role of stylist until the designer himself, wearing head-to-toe purple that matched his couch, pops into the showroom to assist. They’re all rich and famous, so naturally, they’re all besties as well. Holding his hands together in front of his face like he’s praying to the fashion gods for inspiration, he says, “No. This is not the dress, my dear.”
I always thought he had an Italian accent when I’ve seen him on TV. Today, it’s leaning more toward the boroughs of New York, though I’m no expert to know which one. And he’s insisting we call him Vinnie. I’m so lost. Rich people are weird. I snicker, thinking how Alfie and I embrace our weirdness, but Hollywood types don’t even realize how weird they are.
“Nikki could wear a bag, and she’d look amazing,” I whisper to Hannah.
Vinnie snaps his fingers and points at me, startling me. “Yes! That’s it.”
“What’s it?” I ask. “A bag?” I would not be surprised if it’s literally a bag.
“I have the perfect design idea.” Turning to Nikki, he takes her hands. “I have your measurements and know your style. Give me a week and I’ll have something made in time for the awards show.” They exchange a two-cheek kiss, reminding me how Dave calls me cherry cheeks.
I touch my pendant, ready to wallow in the memory of our fight this morning, or whatever that was. He was so unlike himself, and it’s thrown me out of sorts, not sure if I should have left the suite and come today. The girls had plans, though, and Dave hadn’t returned to the suite even an hour later.
Vinnie’s attention grabs mine when he asks, “Who is this darling, and why have we not been introduced?” As he holds two fingers and his thumb to his head, his gaze seeks out the heavens, and he says, “Let me guess.”
Not awkward at all. Nope, I’m just sitting here with a famous designer who thinks he’s Zoltar the psychic, trying to guess who I am. Oh God. I feel the heat rising under my shirt while everyone waits for him to be willed the answer. Is it hot in here? I start flapping my shirt to cool off when he says, “I see suburban chic with a carefree edge of youth.”
“Yep, you guessed it. That’s me. Suburban chic.” I laugh because the description is hilarious. Fine, the champagne has also gone to my head.
He laughs in delight and comes to me. “I was tugging your foot.” Clasping one of my hands between the two of his, he says, “I would love to design a whole line around the color of your eyes.”
“I’m going to need you for a year just to count the colors in your eyes. Don’t be fooled, green doesn’t come close to covering what I see when I look at you.”
“What do you see?”
“Emerald and sea, thyme and spring, waterfall and moss, ocean and earth. I can go on about all the greens that make up who you are to me.”
Turning to Holli, Vinnie says, “She’s beautiful. Model? Starlet? You must tell me.”
Wait. Back up.
Let me get this straight. He’s asking one of the most beautiful women in the world who I am? She has legit been named The Most Beautiful Woman in the World by magazines, and he wants to know who I am. What crazy universe is this?
Stella nudges me. “You’re not in Austin anymore.”
“No. I most definitely am not,” I reply.
Holli says, “This is Meadow Fellowes. Stella’s sister. She’s visiting from Austin, but we’re hoping to convince her to move to Los Angeles after she graduates from college.”
“Beautiful and smart,” he says, releasing my hand. “It’s an aphrodisiac of combinations. You must have someone special in your life or a line around the block vying for your company.”
I’m still feeling a bit emotional from the fight we had, so I don’t know how to answer this one. I’ve felt sick all morning about Dave and not knowing what’s going on with him. Seeing me struggle, Stella says, “My sister has never worn one of your designs. I’d like to find something special for her to wear.”
“Fab!” he exclaims. “Like Nikki, Miss Meadow was born to shine. I’ll sketch a few designs and send them over. If you like one, we’ll make magic.” He holds his hand out to her. “Come with me. I have something that will look divine on you. You’ll be attending the same awards as Nikki, correct?”
“Yes,” she replies, taking his hand. “But Nikki’s performing and nominated. I’m only going as a plus-one.”
“The most important plus-one to that handsome husband of yours.”
I’m indebted to my sister for saving me. While she disappears with Vinnie and Nikki is gone to get dressed, Holli and Rochelle browse the store, leaving me sitting on the couch with Hannah.
Jet’s wife.
Stella’s friend.
Dave’s Hannah.
One of his best friends.
As soon as the other women are out of earshot, she asks, “Are you okay?”
Okay. The word rings through my ears in Dave’s voice from this morning.
“No.”
“Dave called me,” Hannah says, her tone treading carefully with me.
She knows him better than anyone. He’s told me they’ve been through a lot together, but my defenses go up. Will he tell her what he’s been through with me? “What did he say?”
“He wanted me to make sure you’re all right.”
I pick a piece of fluff off the couch, then look at her. “He did?” Of course, he did. That’s what Dave does—takes care of everyone else while bottling up his own emotions to explode at another time, like this morning.
Her eyes tend toward gray with concern etched in her expression as she whips her hair up into a ponytail. “He said you were gone when he got back from his run.” It’s warm under the showroom lights, so she fans herself.
He went running? I should know this, but she does instead. “He didn’t call me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. He was worried about you and remembered that I would see you.”
“I don’t know why he was upset this morning.”
“He’s usually a pretty straight-forward guy. He didn’t say?”
Deep down I know. I know because he’s shown me in subtle ways. It may not have been as blatant as blurting it out, but this morning he told me. “He wants more than I can give him right now.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but that doesn’t sound like him.”
“Well, it was. I’m in school, and I’m not here. I can’t magically divide myself in two.”
“And that’s what he wants?” She reaches over and gently touches my hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. You’re not obligated to talk to me about this.”
“But he brought you into it.” I angle her way, resting my elbow on the back of the couch. “You’re his close friend, but I consider you one of mine as well. Jet loves you. You’ve been a good friend to my sister, and Dave calls you one of the best, so I feel your interest comes from a good place.”
“But?”
She caught that before I said it. “But Dave and I are in two different places in our lives—emotionally and physically. We live half the country apart on a regular basis. I was willing to do what needed to be done for us to be together, but I’m only letting him down. This morning, he was upset, irritated, but he wasn’t mad. He was frustrated. So yes, I do know what caused it. I just feel helpless because I can’t fix it at this time.”
When I close my eyes to hide the tears that threaten to fall, the couch dips, and she wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to cry. I wanted you to know you can talk to me, and I’m not taking sides.” Her head rests against
the top of mine, and she says, “I care about him so much, but I care about you too. You’re family.”
We hug family.
I look back up with a lump in my throat. This time I hug her, looking to find the light in a dark situation. “You’re kind and pretty. I see why that husband of yours fell so hard.”
“I also feed him well,” she jokes. “He’s a sucker for a home-cooked meal.”
“I think he’s there for more than the meals.”
She wipes her thumbs lightly across the apples of my cheeks. “No crying, okay? If I know Dave at all, he’ll tell you how he feels. He doesn’t play games. You always know where you stand with him.”
“Should I call him?”
“No. Just enjoy the day and talk to him in person when you get home. I mean the hotel.” She half-rolls her eyes. “He really needs to find a place to live. That hotel life must be getting old.”
It’s then I realize he didn’t tell her the dirty details of our fight. He was truly just making sure I was all right. Standing, I hand her the glass of champagne. “Do you mind if I cut out early?”
A knowing smile spreads, erasing her worry. “Go. I’ll let Stella know.”
I take off because Dave and I may be in two different places, but we only have tonight to be in one.
Stuck in traffic drains away the adrenaline. Sitting in the back of this car, I want to hit the window I’m so frustrated. I’m so tempted to call Dave that I hold my phone staring down at my favorite photo of him. Beyond his sex appeal, my heart flutters because I know his heart is good as gold.
Finally. I arrive back at the hotel, rush out of the car, and speed through the lobby. The elevator is the slowest in history, but when the doors open, I run to the end of the hall and practically bust through the suite doors. “Dave?”
My feet come to a stop in the entry, and I watch as he turns around with his hands in his pockets. His cologne drifts through the air, mingling with the smell of fresh flowers on the table next to me. He doesn’t say anything when our eyes meet, so I ask, “Why were you late the other night?”