“It’s a big deal to me,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“Is this part of the whole new person who wants to start living thing?”
He moves closer to eliminate the open space between us. His leg presses against mine as he takes my bandaged hand into his hands. “I knew I should have called but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” His voice is low again, almost a whisper. “I have a lot of issues, Grace.”
“Don’t we all?” I say the first thing that pops into my head, clichéd or not. I can’t think straight when he’s that close to me. I don’t mean to stare at his firm pecs as the tight fabric of his shirt clings to them but that’s exactly where my gaze lands. It’s either that or getting lost in his beautiful eyes.
He raises my chin with one finger and smiles at me with a sincerity that is worrisome rather than reassuring. I’m not sure what game he’s playing, but everything in me screams that this is indeed a game.
“You’re so innocent,” he says.
“You mean naïve?”
He shakes his head, staring deep into my eyes. The smell of his tanned skin is intoxicating. My heartbeat increases making me feel faint.
Control yourself, Grace, is all I manage to think. He’s not the man I kissed at the library. I take a breath and pull myself away from the physical and emotional closeness he’s trying to build between us.
This will never happen. It cannot happen. I’m not bad looking, but I’m not exactly calendar material. There’s no way a man like this could be interested in me. Taylor is the one who’s always gotten the attention when we went out together or met new people. Whatever Nate’s issues are, they have nothing to do with me and I don’t need another troubled man in my life.
“This has been interesting, but I think it’s time for you to go,” I say. “It’s getting late and I’m exhausted.”
He looks frustrated. “I haven’t said what I came here to say.”
“Well, just say it already.” This might have come off as a little aggressive. I try to soften it up. “Or don’t say it.”
“Will you be my friend again?”
His meaning escapes me. “Are you asking if things can go back to normal?” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “Sure, why not?”
“I want us to go back to that moment when I invited myself for dinner,” he says slowly. “I want us to start from that exact moment.”
I get up and lock my eyes on his. “Why, Nate? I mean, we had no problems being shelter buddies and getting along in our strange way. That seems to be our most peaceful state. Why do you need to make it something more? You sound a little crazy wanting to go back to a moment in time. Why?”
“Because you’re the most curious person I’ve met in a long time.”
“Me? I’m the curious one?” I laugh in an exaggerated manner.
“It’s more of a curiosity I feel when I talk to you, when we’re close, when we kiss, when my body feels your warmth,” he says almost scientifically.
I make sure to give him my most incredulous glare. “Really? If it was the kisses and warmth you were after, you pretty much fucked that up.”
“I know I did,” he says like a sad puppy. “That’s why, Dear Grace, I am asking to be friends only if that’s what you want.”
“Silly Nate,” I say. “Forgive me, it’s Nathan, right?”
“Nate’s fine,” he says. “Anything your voice says is fine by me.”
“What girl can be only friends with you?” I say weakening.
Instead of an answer, he puts one hand behind my head and pulls me back down to the couch with his face close to mine. “I don’t care about any other girl,” he says.
My whole body loses the will to resist as he parts my lips with his tongue. He tastes like honey and cinnamon. He tastes like happiness. He gently bites my upper lip, letting a finger trace my ear ever so slightly.
His arm tightens around my waist sending splintered pulses along my spine. I fight to keep a simple truth from him, that he could make me do whatever he wants. I hide a thousand yeses from him, desperate that if they all spill out at once there would be nothing left of me to love.
I put my hands against his chest and push him away. I spring up from the couch. “I think you’ve proven your point,” I say.
“I wasn’t trying to prove a point.”
“No? Then why do you show up here looking like... like that and trying to seduce me?”
He tries to hide a look of satisfaction. “How do I look exactly?”
That’s it. My fury overtakes my infatuation now. “You know how to push a girl’s buttons. You gorgeous asshole of a man. I don’t care why you were doing your best to cover it up. I prefer the humble Nate. The scruffy one who didn’t go around grinning in a tight T-shirt.” I stop to take a breath.
“Go on,” he says, unfazed. “This is really interesting.”
“You’re really vain I just realized. I’m not falling in your trap.”
“What trap would that be? Sleeping with me?”
“Okay, Nathan or whatever your name is today, you’ve said what you wanted to say. Now get out. Go seduce some other girl.”
I walk to the door and open it.
He studies me a while before he decides to get up. “Grace, why are you so upset?” he says when he goes past me. “I thought you liked me.”
“The Nate that worked at the shelter and cared for animals and made funny jokes and minded his own business, that guy I liked. But this Abercrombie & Fitch Nathan, who thinks women should jump for joy to have an opportunity to sleep with him? I’m not interested in that guy.”
“Really? You barely noticed scruffy Nate at the shelter. And now that I like you and got my hair cut suddenly I’m an arrogant jerk.”
“I can’t deal with you right now, Nate. Get out.” I’m beginning to panic. If he stays one more second, I might just sleep with him to get us to stop talking.
“Okay,” he says as he shoves the door wide open. “I’m not very smooth, Grace. But I know what I want and I think you are afraid to admit the same. I’ll come back when you cool down.”
“Bye now,” I say in the best bitchy voice I can muster. I shut the door with all my might before I collapse onto the couch in a daze of uncertainty.
Did I just kick the most delicious man I’ve ever met out of my house after he said he liked me? Okay, so he sounded arrogant, cocky, even bizarre, but what if there were legitimate reasons behind all his nonsense?
What if he was just being honest?
Whatever. It’s done now. I cannot change it – not tonight. I can’t help but wonder if he meant it when he said he liked me. No, I can’t afford to think like that. It could be that he finds every woman who says no to him a challenge.
This guy, this Nate or Nathan, he’s so hot and so smooth that every girl he grins at becomes a hot mess. He flusters and entices. He tastes good and feels good. He winks and whispers and, eventually, he crushes the heart of any girl naïve enough to think his words are real.
Keep your blue eyes to yourself, Nathan. I’m nobody’s fool.
Chapter 9
Glass jars of various sizes containing swimming green olives and pickles stand in a perfect straight line across the tall counter, making me curious about the levels of saltiness and acidity within.
Taylor’s taking her sweet time talking to the woman behind the counter, seemingly indifferent to the line that has started to form behind her. I have no choice but to shove her gently to get her to finish her chit-chat and pay for the assortment of goods she has chosen to purchase on a whim: hard candy, peppers, olives, walnuts, yams, potatoes, carrots, apples, oranges, spices, one medium sized pumpkin, a bottle of wine and a bunch of smaller items I don’t even recognize.
“What?” she says without noticing the line.
“How are we going to carry all that around the food court?”
“Not a food court,” she says shaking a finger at me. “Honey, it’s the Farmers Market.”
I give her a
sarcastic grin. “Okay, glorified food court.”
Taylor studies my face for a few seconds. “Why are you being so negative? What’s happened to your mojo?”
“I didn’t know I had one.”
“C’mon, Grace! What’s up?”
“All right, I’m not in the greatest mood but I thought you asked me to meet you here for lunch.”
“Can’t you just be happy the Farmers Market is open seven days a week?”
I control myself so I don’t repeat the obvious observation that the LA Farmers Market is more of a huge open-air food court than a true farmers’ market. “It’s just peachy,” I say in a conciliatory voice. “Are we ready to grab lunch now?”
“You’re no fun,” she says. “Thanksgiving is a few days away. We can use the groceries.”
“You’re right, my bad.” I take a look around at the multiple food stalls and sit-down eateries, packed with customers and passersby, hurrying to get under the sheds seeking protection from the unexpected wind and cold.
“Let’s go eat,” Taylor says. “That was the plan, right?”
“What about all these?” I say pointing at the brown bags on the floor.
“Never fret,” she says as she reaches over the counter with her charming smile on her full, red lips. “Can we leave these here for an hour or so?” she asks the lady vendor.
“Sure, honey, no problem,” the lady says smiling back.
“See how easy that was?” Taylor tells me as we walk through the court looking for a good spot for lunch. “You have to generate positive energy in order to interact with the positive all around you, Grace. That’s how you get your mojo back.”
A small child steps in front of me. I come to a sudden halt to let her walk around me. “Some days are tougher than other days,” I explain.
“But we’re having lunch together and it’s Thanksgiving week,” she says, patting the child’s head and beaming with excitement. That’s Taylor in a nutshell. Sweet and open to whatever life throws at her.
“I can’t be thankful for a whole week,” I say, sticking my tongue out. The little girl follows my example just as her mother picks her up.
“Sorry about that,” the young mother says. “She can be very cheeky.”
“We started it,” Taylor says. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“She’s a handful,” the mother says. “But she’s worth it.”
Taylor turns to me after the mother and child are gone. “Okay, what do you feel like eating?”
I’m not sure I feel like eating at all anymore.
“I know!” Taylor says triumphantly before I have a chance to respond. “What about that crepe place you like?”
“The French Crepe Company? Sure, that’s an improvement.”
Now that I think about it, a nice succulent, chicken and spinach crepe wouldn’t be a bad idea. The only thing I’ve had all day is a cup of black coffee and half a plain bagel. My stomach has suffered for my melancholy.
“A thin sweetened white flour wrap is not my idea of a meal that’s compatible with long life but we have to live dangerously sometimes,” Taylor says as we walk to the counter.
“Well there’s the menu,” I say. “A hundred ways to defy danger.”
When our order comes up we take our seats at the only free table in the main eating area. I take a bite off my Chicken Florentine crepe and it immediately settles my nerves.
A cute guy walks his dog past the tables. We both notice him and Taylor waves to the guy who either doesn’t see her or ignores her.
“I see you are still aware of every cute guy you come across,” I say before taking a sip of my sweetened iced tea.
“God gave me eyes, didn’t she?” Taylor says.
“That begs the question, what’s truly going on with Cody?”
Taylor sinks her teeth into her Crepe Phillipe, wiping a spot of white mushroom sauce from her lips. She then proceeds to take long sips of her unsweetened iced tea. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about Cody, so I’m about to change the subject to the aromatherapy shop when she shakes her head and locks her eyes on mine.
“It’s done,” she says. “C’est fini. I’m not going to see him again.”
I would love to believe her and from what I can tell she wants me to believe her. “Just don’t get hurt, you hear me? I know you, Tay. You’ll hate yourself if you sleep with a married man.”
“I said I’m not going to see him again and I’ve told him. Now if you can stop bringing him up, my problem will be solved.”
I study her face for a moment, searching for signs of strength and determination. I find neither. What I do find is sadness and apprehension carefully covered up by a tiny veil of sarcasm. “You’re right,” I say to give her a break. “It’s Thanksgiving week. Let’s concentrate on that – being thankful for what we have.”
We raise our drinks and leave them hang in midair as we both turn to stare at a tall, good-looking guy in a tank top and athletic shorts who walks up to the creperie oblivious to the cold weather.
I can’t help it, all I can think is that Nate is a thousand times hotter than this strong, young man who attracts almost every female gaze in a hundred-meter radius. It’s annoying I can’t get my mind to follow the plan.
“That’s it,” Taylor says, bringing me back down to planet Earth.
“Hmm?”
“The solution to my problem. Both our problems.”
“I have a problem?”
“Oh, don’t be coy with me. You know you need a man in your life.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I try to protest but she’s relentless as usual. Her eyes flash excitement all of a sudden and I kind of like it.
“We will start going out again, just the two of us,” she says. “Bars, clubs, shows, any place where we can meet cool guys.”
“I’m tired just thinking about it.”
“C’mon, it will be like our old college days.”
“The old days? It’s barely been two years. Besides, I spent my college years working and studying,” I remind her. “I was never big on nightlife.”
She throws a curious glance at me. “Wait, did you even graduate?”
“I only have two courses left, that’s it. I’m going back after Christmas.”
“Fuck me, you’re hopeless,” she says rolling her eyes. “I’m talking about having some fun and all you can think are some lame future courses.”
She’s right. At twenty-five, I’m already turning into a prude.
“We need some nice young gentlemen to give us a proper—“
“Taylor, there are kids here,” I whisper.
She beams. “And where do you think they came from?”
“Just don’t be vulgar,” I say.
“Thank you, Aunt Mildred,” Taylor says. “Maybe you would be happier knitting in your rocking chair.”
Maybe I would actually. Maybe there’s no hope for me. I swallow the piece of food in my mouth. “If what I need is a cool, hot guy to shake things up in my life, I already have a candidate,” I say. Almost immediately I realize what I have said and can barely believe my audacity. Taylor makes me competitive. I’m not even sure there is a shred of truth to what I said.
Taylor raises an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. “Well, do tell.”
I fumble with my phone unable to finish what I started.
“If you’re just going to stare at me like that, I think I’m going to get me some booze,” Taylor says. “You’re all talk.”
I exhale and stop fiddling with my phone. “It’s Nate.”
A self-satisfied grin takes over her face. “So you do like him after all. Am I not always right?”
“It’s complicated, I don’t even know where to start.”
Taylor’s face radiates. “Something’s happened.”
It’s better to be honest with her. She’s my ally and I’m so bad at figuring these things out. “He kissed me at the library ten days ago,” I say. “Then he disappears, he’s literally nowhere
to be found. Then last night he shows up and he wants to sleep with me. The whole thing is beyond strange.”
“Why is that so strange? He’s known you for some time and he likes you. In the normal world, Grace, guys want to sleep with girls they like.”
“And I might have let him, but that’s not the whole story.”
She leans back onto her chair and brushes back a loose strand of hair caught in a light breeze. “Are you trying to kill me with anticipation? Spill.”
“He... well, you wouldn’t recognize him. He cleaned up his act completely. He looks like a different man.”
“Different how?”
“The short story? He’s hot as hell. Short hair, blue eyes, clean face, six-pack, delicious skin, the whole freaking thing.”
“I knew it. I have sex ray vision. I saw right through that scruffiness all the way to his hidden abs.”
“There are worse super powers,” I say eating the last crumbs of my crepe.
“Do I even dare to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Did you do the deed?”
I shake my head. “I sent him on his way.”
Taylor sends what I can only describe as a flash of indignation at me. “You can’t be serious.”
“Think about it, Taylor. He’s been presenting himself as someone other than who he is for months. He gave me some strange story about how a friend’s death changed him and he had to take a hard look at himself.”
“I’m still jumping his bones with that story.”
“Be serious,” I tell her. “Okay, so now he just shows up looking like a fitness model and sweeps me off my feet? I can’t trust him. It defies logic.”
“It defies logic all right. All I heard was that he looks like a fitness model and he wants to sleep with you,” Taylor says scrunching up her face.
“His bullshit story doesn’t bother you?”
She tries to put on her serious face. “It’s his story. Not yours. So he’s mixed up. You are, too. You just haven’t told him your story yet.” She pauses for a moment and then asks, “What’s his last name?”
I realize I have no clue so I tell her as much but then it hits me. “Wait, I think I have it on my phone,” I say.
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