Alex slapped his hands up in the air like he’d just been arrested. “I’ll try my best to abide by your rules, Doc. But Sophie’s her own woman, very opinionated. She does what she wants. That’s one of the reasons I like her.”
I blasted Alejandro with my most evil death glare, grabbed the prescription forms and business card, yanked the stupid cubicle curtain out of the way and stomped toward the front desk. “Worst. Day. Ever.”
* * *
I sat in the passenger seat as Alex drove his Jeep down yet another residential L.A. block filled with short apartment buildings that looked exactly alike. “Do you have your new address written down somewhere in your purse?” He asked. “Your wallet? Your phone?”
“All of the above. I even embroidered it onto a pillowcase while I was delayed in Denver. Because I, Sophie Marie Priebe, am so freaking organized that if I was only twenty-five years older, I could be the head CPA for The Container Store. I left the paperwork in the apartment with a copy of the lease. I’ve landed in Stepford, haven’t I? Shoot me now. Oh wait! That one looks familiar. Pull over, please!”
He parked the Jeep at the curb. I got out walked onto the grass and squinted at the building. “This is it. There’s something super familiar about it.” I walked up, grabbed my keys from my purse and they slid wet across my fingers. Lovely—they too were soaked in beer. I stuck one in the front door lock of the first-floor walk-up and turned it.
Five minutes later, I was still finagling the key in the stupid lock.
“Are you sure this is your apartment?” Alex asked
“Damned if I know? Boyfriend.” I glared at him and stuck out my tongue. “I’ve been up for twenty-one hours, been in Lost Angeles for eight of them and I’m the next thing to brain-dead. Yes, this looks like my apartment. But guess what?” I threw my hands up in the air and then pointed to another apartment building across the street. “So does that one.” I gestured at another complex a block down. “And, that one does too!”
Alex reached out and took a hold of the keys. “Hand ’em over. Let me try.”
I yanked them from him like I’d touched a lit burner on the stove. “I appreciate all your help, Alejandro, Mr. Driver, don’t-know your last name. But, hey?” I returned to wrangling the key in the door. “You allowed—no—let me re-phrase that.” I swiveled and jabbed the key toward his chest. “You encouraged an ER doctor to think I’m a stupid-headed slut. Which, I’m not. How dare you! What if I run into him again?”
“I know you’re not a stupid slut. You need to stop threatening me with a violent keychain and put that weapon back in that door. If we play our cards right, your cuts are going to heal just fine. You’re never going to see that doctor again.” Alex said. “Look. Sometimes I get carried away. Stupid things pop out of my mouth because I’m going for the joke that will hopefully make people forget whatever their problem is and just find a little peace for a moment. A little calm in their storm. I’m sorry.”
I grumbled. “You don’t have to stay here. I’d lay odds California Barbie’s still at the Westwood Grill tossing back Coronas and shots with her triplet friends. I’m sure she’d let you to take her for a ride.”
“I already took that ride,” Alex said.
I paused for a moment. Of course he did. Forget Magic Mountain and Disneyland. This guy was so smokin’ hot that he was probably the most favorite ride in town.
“Shocker.”
“It’s not a ride I want to take again.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” When my legs that already felt weak started to tremble ever so slightly. I had to get rid of him. Now. Before— “Oh, look the door is opening! Yay! Thanks so much for your help. It was great meeting you, Alejandro, Alex, whatever your name is. See you around the neighborhood.”
If I played my cards right, I’d never be seeing him again.
I jiggled the keys dramatically. “Home sweet, home!”
“If the lock’s opening why isn’t the door opening?” He peered at me, perplexed. “You’re lying to me. That lock is still locked and that door is totally not opening. We’re not even dating and you’re lying to me? Is it just you, or are all Wisconsin chicks this devious?” He frowned. “I’m staying.”
A small smile snuck onto my lips and almost betrayed me. I quickly erased it. “You’ve helped me just about enough for one day. Leave.” My face ached. My bones were weary. My legs were so tired I prayed they wouldn’t start twitching or worse—give out underneath me.
“I’m not going until I know you are safe and sound inside your new apartment.”
I turned and stared at him. The streetlight shone high above and behind Alex illuminating his black hair, his earnest, handsome, chiseled face and his wide muscular shoulders. In combination with the moonlight, he was almost too beautiful to be of this world. He looked like a dark, dangerous angel. I half expected wings to pop out of his back. I blinked and squinted at him. No wings. Just one hundred percent stubborn human male gorgeousness.
He was funny, smart and stunning. The Deadly Dangerous Guy Trifecta. Totally not fair.
But then I remembered my secret power, which could get rid of a guy like Off!, the mosquito repellant. I had it down to a science.
The nice boys, the sweethearts who I called the Beta Boys, would give up easily.
“Hey, Sophie? So, um, want to go to a party with me this weekend?” Beta Boy would ask.
Me: “Thanks, can’t. Got family in town visiting.”
Beta Boy: “Okay.”
I felt bad about letting them down, but it only would have been more hurtful for them down the road.
The Alpha Boys were tougher. Their sub-categories included: Brilliant. Boneheads. Bad boys. Broken. As well as all combinations, thereof. I’d turn the Alpha Boys down over and over. I’d make fun of the ones that wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d insult their manly egos. I’d be standoffish. After all, it was for their own good. With enough work and the right technique I could get an Alpha Boy—oh hell, I could get any guy to stop asking me out. Walk away. Leave me alone.
Yeah, I got called some names. “Frigid bitch” seemed to be pretty popular. Eventually I’d hear the obligatory gossip about how they told their friends that I was obviously gay. Actually, that might have made it easier. Unfortunately I just wasn’t wired that way.
But now, looking up at Alejandro, I couldn’t even think of cruel words let alone say them. And I wasn’t sure if it was him, or if it was me. Maybe I was just overly tired. I’d been told a hundred times not to get too stressed: that it could do a number on me. I’d been warned this trip might not be a good idea. That it might trigger anxiety, additional symptoms or be too much for my system to handle.
But I didn’t listen to the naysayers, because I had hope. And hope can make you do weird things. Hope made me take this journey two-thousand miles away from everyone I knew and loved.
So what if tonight started with a small misstep, a little trip to the ER? I was here. I would confront my fears. I would stagger through them one misstep, one shard of glass in the face at a time.
“Are you okay?” Alejandro asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you’ve been talking non-stop ever since I met you and suddenly you’re quiet. Too quiet.”
I shook my head and sat down on the front stoop. “I’m fine.” I told my brain to get a grip and admonished my heart to stop pounding like a stupid teenager’s. Oh wait—I was still nineteen, so maybe that last reminder didn’t count. Cut it out, Sophie. You didn’t come to L.A. for romance. “Thank you so much for your help, Alejandro. Let’s stay in touch. Right now all I want to do is bury my head in a pillow and go to sleep.”
“Where do you plan on doing that if you can’t find your apartment? I don’t live that far away. You could come to my place. I have plenty of room—”
“No.”
“Okay.” He paced back and forth in front of me on the sidewalk. His legs were long, his jeans were fitted and showed off his body that was
blessed by nature and enhanced by working out, being an athlete, or both.
Maybe God only wanted to hear big important prayers, but I couldn’t help myself and uttered a silent “thank you” for the fact that Alejandro didn’t wear his jeans half way down his ass like some gangsta wannabe.
“You want me to take you to a motel?”
“Um…”
He stopped pacing, stared at me and gestured with two fingers from my gaze that was locked on his posterior… up to his face. “Eyes up here, Bonita.”
“Oh. Perhaps I was dozing for a moment.” Or perhaps a sinkhole would appear underneath me and swallow me whole. “What were you saying?”
“Do you want to go to a motel?”
“That would be a definite no.”
“Do you even remember your new address?” He asked.
“2132… 2138… 3821…” I dropped my keychain into my lap and my forehead into my hands.
“Stop!” Alejandro grabbed my wrist and pulled my hands away from my face.
I smacked his hand. “You stop! What are you doing?”
“I don’t care how tired you are. You’ve got to be careful with your face. Have you taken your drugs, yet? Where are your drugs?” He grabbed my purse and rifled through it. “You need to swallow a damn pill and apply those cremes to your cuts.”
“You’re overreacting. I don’t have any cuts on my forehead or my hands. Just a few on my face and my head.” When exhaustion rolled over me like a big monster truck. “I totally appreciate everything you have done for me. I’ve officially passed tired and am headed toward a coma.” I lay down on the concrete porch, pulled my knees up into my chest and rested my cheek that had the fewest wounds on my forearm.
His eyes widened. “What the hell are you—”
“The drugs are in the zippered side pocket inside my purse. That’s where I keep the important stuff I don’t want to lose.”
He unzipped my purse’s side pocket and pulled out the creme. “You will not spend your first night in L.A. like this,” he said. “You cannot lie down on a stranger’s front porch, in a strange city and go to sleep. They’ll find your body in a dumpster tomorrow or next week. And then because I helped you—I’ll be the main suspect. It’ll be on all the news shows. ‘Local young man’s the main suspect in pretty midwestern girl’s demise. News at ten.’”
“You’re a dork,” I said. “Perhaps the reporters will say, ‘Alejandro whatever-his-last-name-is was never a quiet young man. He didn’t keep to himself enough and too frequently intervened in the business of others. But the ladies seemed to like him something fierce. Although he banged too many stupid girls, he seemed to have a kind heart and he was a good driver.’ Nighty night, Alejandro.” I smiled into my forearm.
“You can’t do this! The writers from Law and Order: SVU will copy this case and some bit actor who longs to be on the CW Network will play my role.” I squinted one eye partially open and observed as he twisted open the cremes, squeezed a little of each onto his index and third fingers. “I hate those shows.” He leaned in toward me.
Oh crap, he was delicious.
I tried to keep my breathing regular. Not stop breathing. Not inhale with a loud gasp as he touched my face. For a big guy with large hands, I was shocked at how gently he dabbed the ointment onto my cuts.
I closed my eyes. Every place he patted my face tingled. I flushed and felt warm all over: from head to toe. From heart to groin. But then I felt something almost miraculous. Something I feared was lost for good.
I felt safe. I felt protected.
“Sophie? Wake up! People don’t just curl up on other people’s front doorsteps unless they’re homeless or a little crazy.”
“Maybe I’m a little of both right now.” I stretched my arms overhead and felt a few thorns prick my hands from the rose bushes in the tiny garden next to the front door. When out of the corner of my eye I spotted a small scruffy dog poke its head around modern brightly colored curtains in the living room adjacent to my apartment and bark in a squeaky soprano.
I lifted my head. “Gidget?”
Alejandro frowned. “Sorry?”
I pushed myself to kneeling, flipped through my key ring. I found a different key—almost identical to the other one, shoved it into the lock and turned it. The door clicked open like magic. “Oh hallelujah! This is my place! Yay!”
Chapter Three
I groped the wall next to the door and flipped on the lights, illuminating my tiny crash pad. “Gidget’s my new next-door neighbor’s dog. I’m home! I’m home!” I wanted to dance, but instead twirled around the incredibly small living room that featured a beat up love seat, an ancient recliner chair and some area rugs on the scuffed hardwood floors.
“Hang on.” Alejandro stepped inside my door and looked around. “You’re not supposed to be doing activities like yoga, or dancing or roller coasters or—”
“Twirling? The doctor didn’t say anything about twirling.” I was so incredibly jacked to be home. Even though technically my real home was two thousand miles away from this pricey step up from a closet that sported yellowed polyester lace draperies.
I honed in on his confused but happy face. This impossibly gorgeous young man was standing in my living room and looked like he didn’t know what to do next. A couple of years ago I might have been super brave and offered him a suggestion like, “Shut up and kiss me.” But a couple of years ago I was a completely different person. “Thank you heaps, Alejandro. For catching me. For driving me. For making me go to the ER. For helping me find my home.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Happy to help a tourist in need. In fact, I could show you around town—”
“I’m not a tourist. No time. I’m here for the USCLA summer session.”
That statement was kind of true.
“What are you taking? A required core class? Then catching a tan and learning how to surf? I can teach you how to surf, you know.”
“I’m taking Genetics 300 level with Professor Schillinger. I’m not the best swimmer in the world. In fact, I suck at it. So, thanks but I’ll hold off on the surfing lessons for now.”
“Genetics 300. Guess you’re not just a pretty face.” He grabbed my purse, pulled out the bottle of antibiotics, popped the childproof cap open and shook out one monster-sized pill. He walked into my kitchenette, opened the fridge door and peered inside. “Do you have any bottled water in this place?”
“I have nothing in this place but my luggage,” I said.
He sighed and looked at the pill in his hand. “I’ll be back in five.”
“Tap water doesn’t scare me,” I said. “Another thing about midwestern chicks.”
He cocked his head and eyed me like I was a little nuts.
I pointed to the kitchen sink. “Feel free to fill a glass with L.A.’s finest.”
He did. He handed me the glass of tap water and the pill. I took it from him and swallowed it. I shuddered.
“Tap water sucks.”
“Tap water’s fine. It’s the monster scary pill that sucks.”
“It’s healing,” he said.
“According to you,” I replied.
“Professor Schillinger is the smartest, coolest professor on campus. I can help you with your swimming. You just need to get in that ocean water and paddle around for a bit. Get your confidence up. Once you do that, I can get you up on a board in no time, Bonita.”
Drinking tap water and swimming and genetics and surfing. Two were the truth and two were a lie. I was so freaking tired I was practically hallucinating. And now I had to find a way to say goodbye to the most handsome guy I’d ever met. Oh suck it up, Sophie. You are no stranger to tough times or stubborn Alpha Boys. Just get rid of him already.
“Hey Alejandro?” I asked.
“What?”
“You know where I live. You know my name. You know where to find me.”
“True,” he said. “But, I’m not a stalker type. Got too much on my plate. Too many things I need
to get done. Tonight, with you, has been kind of an exception for me.”
Not the answer I expected. But I nodded like I completely understood. “I need to crash. So thanks and good night.” I took his hand, stroked the base of his thumb and sighed. This was one of my signature bye-bye moves. It worked with every single Alpha Boy I’d ever met. “Maybe next time we meet, you could tell me a little bit more about you. I’d love that.”
Especially considering I never planned to see him again.
“Agree. You’ve had a hell of a day, and you totally need to sleep.”
Alejandro was a total pushover. He was cake. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Oh, I definitely got it.” He squeezed my hand, placed his other hand on my forearm and pulled me toward him.
“Um?” I frowned as my face came within an inch of where the narrow part of the V started in his T-shirt. I was breathing into his chest that was so wide and strong, I felt dwarfed next to it.
“I can’t leave yet, Bonita.”
“Yes, you can. You have to.”
He placed his finger under my chin and tilted my face up toward his. I had no choice but to look up into his ridiculously gorgeous hazel eyes rimmed by long black eyelashes. Take in his high sharp cheekbones, the way his thick black hair was tucked behind his ears, and the fact that he would not take his eyes off me. And I wondered two things. One. Could you hate a guy for being too hot? And, two.
Why now? Why after the past eighteen months was the Universe, God, a Higher Power, the Fates handing me this tough card? I had enough tough cards to build a tough card deck. I had so many important things to accomplish in L.A. And unfortunately, getting involved with Alejandro wasn’t one of them.
The Story of You and Me Page 2