I laughed at him. “Do you like ice cream?”
“Of course.”
“Apples?”
“Yes.”
“All right then. We’re doing apple pie sundaes.”
“Apple pie sundaes?”
I stood up, feeling confident. “Mm hm.” I went to the fridge and pulled out the apples I’d peeled and sliced up earlier. I’d given them a good dusting with sugar and cinnamon, and now they were all sludgy and gooey, like the insides of apple pie.
Grant was by my side, looking into the bowl. “This looks promising.”
I suppressed a giggle and scrunched my nose at him. “It seemed like something you’d like.”
He watched me for a beat. “You were right.”
“Hey. Got one.” I quickly washed a small pan and set it on the stove. “Do you want coffee, tea, water, milk? I promise my coffee is better than the diner’s.”
He chuckled as our eyes met. I was sure he was thinking of the first time we’d seen one another. “I’ll take some coffee.”
I started the coffee and made some hot water for tea. I added butter to the pan on the stove and turned on the heat.
“Apple pie is… actually my favorite.”
That made me all excited. “Really?”
His eyes twinkled. “Really.”
“Man, I nailed it.”
He laughed at me. “You did. Dinner was amazing.”
“Thanks.” I tossed in the apples over the melted butter.
“So what’s your favorite dessert?” Grant asked as he watched my movements.
“Well, this one tops the list, but as a general rule, I’m a total chocoholic.”
The smell of apples, sugar, and cinnamon blending together rose up into the room.
“I could see that,” he said.
“How do you know me so well?”
His eyes grew soft as he picked up a strand of my hair, his fingers sliding over it.
Him doing that, there in my home, made my heart skip a beat.
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice soft. “I keep reminding myself that I don’t know you that well, but I feel like I do.”
My cheeks warmed. “I know the feeling.”
We locked eyes for a minute. I broke away first to go get the ice cream, but I kissed him on the cheek on the way by. I took the opportunity to enjoy the light smell of him: his aftershave, his laundry detergent, that had mixed with the smells from dinner. It was tough to pull myself away to go get the ice cream, but I persevered.
I set out two bowls and then the ice cream scooper. Grant appeared instantly at my side, so close to me that his arm brushed against mine, giving me goose bumps. He took the scooper from me and doled out the ice cream. I scooped an apple from the pan and blew on it to cool it down. I took a nibble, testing the consistency of the apple and the syrup. It was done just right. I held up the spoon for Grant to try and he ate it off the spoon as I held it.
His eyes held mine over the spoon, making my heart dip again. “Yep. Nailed it.”
I poured the mixture over the ice cream and took out the whipped cream I’d made earlier.
“Is that… homemade whipped cream?” Grant asked.
Whipped cream wasn’t all that hard to make, but it was still nice to get a little extra attention for it. “It is.”
For a second, I thought about dipping my finger into it to let him try some. That made me blush and I had to turn to put the whipped cream on the table with a spoon. Then we sat back down in the kitchen with our drinks and devoured our sundaes.
“Where’d you learn to make this?”
Sam’s face formed in my mind. “A friend and I came up with it. I’m sure we aren’t the first to think of it, but we were wanting apple pie really bad and…” I thought of that Thanksgiving. We’d forgotten the pie crusts. It still turned out to be a good Thanksgiving. One of the best. “But we forgot the pie crusts. So we made just the filling… or,” I looked at him, “just the important parts of the filling. Then someone slopped it over ice cream and we dubbed it apple pie sundaes.”
Sam and I made it a lot after that. Without the ice cream, it was cheap, and even with the ice cream, it was incredibly easy to make. We got to be experts at finishing the apples just right, cooking down the syrup to just the right consistency. The apples still had to have some crisp to them, but be warmed all the way through. I also liked to mix in a sweet apple or two amongst the tart ones. We made the whipped cream on special occasions because the heavy cream was another killer on the grocery budget.
“It’s genius.”
His words surprised me because that was something Sam used to say a lot. “Thanks.”
* * * *
After dinner was all done, Grant helped me wash the dishes, which I thought was terribly sweet of him. Of course I told him not to, but he’d insisted, and pretty soon we were flirting over the soap suds. I knew I was going to see him on Sunday, but I wasn’t ready for him to go yet after that, so I asked him if he wanted more to drink. He’d looked at me with those twinkling eyes and said yes, so we went to sit down on the couch with more coffee and tea.
I folded my legs under me and sat to the side so I could face him as I sipped my tea.
“You’re definitely a Yankee.” Grant watched me.
“It’s the hot tea, isn’t it?” I asked, looking at him over my cup.
He sipped his coffee. “That and the pierogies. I’ve only had those once up in New York.”
My heart skipped a beat but thankfully I had my face in my cup. Surely they made pierogies elsewhere? Right? I had to play it cool until he called me on it.
“They’re tasty.”
I lowered my cup. “One of my favorites.”
“I noticed the bacon.”
I laughed, then looked down at my tea for a second as a wave of homesickness passed over me. “When were you in New York?” I couldn’t help asking. I wanted to picture him there.
“I took a road trip in college with some friends. We went there for a couple days. Did all the touristy stuff.”
I wondered if he had pictures. “Where else did you go?”
“D.C., Gettysburg, a bunch of random places along the East Coast.” His eyes searched mine. “Have you ever been to New York?”
I fought to keep my face neutral. “I have. With friends.” I hoped he wouldn’t press me further.
He looked at me for a second, as if trying to figure something out. My heart started beating faster. I took another sip of my tea. I should just tell him.
“How long have you been here?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Five years.”
I was certain he was going to ask me something that was going to make me uncomfortable, but then he said, “Do you think you’ll stay here?”
“No.” I surprised myself by answering so quickly.
“Why not?” Grant looked at me as he drank some of his coffee.
I shrugged. “I just don’t see myself growing old here, you know? Waiting tables…” I grew anxious just thinking about it.
His mouth held a small smile at my words as he looked in his coffee. “So where do you want to go and what do you want to do?”
I paled and took another drink of tea. I knew where that question led. I didn’t know why I kept doing that; blurting things out without seeing where they would lead the conversation. I was usually savvier about that. I thought about how to answer his question. My plan had always been to find Sam, but after that? I supposed playing out until we got somewhere. But where, I wasn’t sure. I’d always stopped myself from imagining too big, because I knew I could never get past the reading thing. Not to mention, I was usually too busy concentrating on day to day existence to think about that. “I don’t know,” I finally said.
Grant studied me.
Before he could ask me anything, I tried to get him talking about himself again. “What about you? Are you where you want to be?”
He brushed his thumb against the edge of his coffee cup a
nd I remembered how it felt when he did that to my face. “Yeah, I think so.”
Well, that didn’t give me much.
“It’s hard, sometimes. But I think I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
I tried to get a good look at the way the light came out of his eyes. “What’s hard?”
He swirled his coffee in his cup. “I know my dad was always thinking I’d take over for him.”
“But you don’t want to?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His eyes were pensive. “It’s just… static. It doesn’t change. Training horses. Teaching lessons.”
I nodded, thinking over his words. I knew exactly what he meant.
“I do still enjoy it though. I help him when I’m home. But I’d get bored if I did it for forever.”
“Yeah.” I felt a touch of bitterness. In the span of two seconds, he’d summarized exactly how I felt about the past five years of my life. And here I was, still stuck in it. I looked back up at Grant, who was watching me closely. So closely that he looked away when I caught him.
“So why don’t you know what you want to do?”
I struggled to figure out what to say, but kept my face neutral. “Just… never really thought about it.” If I was honest with myself, I would admit that Sam had made me think about it, dream about making it. I tried not to, because I liked to keep my feet on the ground. The fall hurt less that way, but one time I had thought, What would it be like to hear one of our songs on the radio? It didn’t feel real though. It felt beyond my reach.
Grant looked at me like he was trying to figure me out. “I doubt that.”
I held his gaze. “It’s true.”
“What was your favorite subject in school?”
My heart took a dip, and I looked back down at my tea. “I wasn’t good at school.” For the few fragmented months I was there.
Grant paused for a second, making my palms go sweaty. “That’s hard to believe.”
Surprised at his tone, that he wasn’t saying it just to make me feel better, but rather because he thought it to be true, I looked back up at him. “Why?”
“You’re obviously smart.”
I smiled a little, more out of politeness. “Well.” I straightened out my skirt, trying to think of how to word it so that it didn’t sound like I was looking for pity. “You don’t know me all that well.”
“Maybe that makes me a better judge of things.” His eyes were soft and kind. “If you could pick anything, what would you do?”
Play music. I didn’t want to say that because I didn’t want to steer the conversation in that direction. Oh, hell. “Something with music.”
A slow smile lit Grant’s face. “Like what?”
I cleared my throat, trying to keep my face neutral. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“You pointed out I don’t know you that well.” His voice was warm, his dimple just barely showing. “I’m trying to fix that.”
I bit at my cheek. He had me there. I thought about how I was always wanting to get up on stage, how much of a high it was. I hardly ever got to because I was so young, but it was so much fun. The nights I’d played out were some of the best nights of my life. And Sam made enough to scrape by, even if he did have to work an odd job here or there. It’s not like we’d have to make it big for me to earn a living. I knew I was good at showing off in front of people. Even just goofing around. Sam and I had gathered a handful of random people who recognized us when we congregated in the park on Friday evenings to play. I took a deep breath. “Performing.”
His eyes were focused in on me, watching every movement of my face. “So you do play.”
I took a swig of tea. “I can play.”
“Do you sing?”
I hesitated, squinting out one eye as if it was slightly painful for me to admit. “Yes.”
He studied me for a second, and I was afraid he was going to ask me to play for him. I couldn’t do it. Not like this. Not here on this couch. It felt all wrong. I thought Chad had been chased away, a forgotten shadow, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“Why are you so reluctant to talk about it?”
I figured I was going to get that question sooner or later. There were so many things he was digging up about me, things I had worked hard to keep buried for five years. But with music, it went beyond the strain of secrets that kept my job and home safe. I didn’t want to put all my cards out on the table just yet. I didn’t want to see that shine in his eyes, like he’d discovered something and wanted to stick a flag in it. I couldn’t stand it if he looked at me like that.
I realized then Chad had made me bitter. Getting attention from people had never been a problem before him. I’d been all too happy to show off. But I still clung to my instincts. I wanted Grant to get to know me before he heard what I could do. I wanted him to like me, not just my voice, not what I could do with a guitar.
Finally finding my voice, I answered, “I haven’t really played… for anyone… in a while.”
“What about… for Em?”
I was surprised that he brought that up. “That’s different.”
He studied me again, like he was trying to think of what to ask next. This man was relentless. He got a small grin on his face before he looked back down at his coffee. “Can you play Nirvana?”
A smile tightened my cheeks before I could help myself.
“That’s a yes,” he said in a low voice.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Uh huh.” He took another drink of coffee.
“So what about you?” I asked, trying to regain control of myself. Having him prod me on that subject had made me go all shy and flighty. I hated that feeling. “What was your favorite subject in school?”
He watched me for a second, his expression one I now knew well. He was again mulling over whether he should press me further. He took a deep breath then, and I knew I was off the hook. “I liked them all for different reasons, I guess.”
“You liked school?”
“I did.”
That answer pleased me, even if it did make me a touch more uncomfortable. It reminded me how different we were. Sam had done well in school. But Sam and I were friends. There was more at stake when you were interested in… what? What were we interested in? I looked over Grant, wondering where my mind was taking me. A relationship?
“What are you thinking?”
Of course he would ask that.
“I like having you here,” I finally said, tracing a circle around the rim of my tea cup.
“I like being here.” His face was as warm as his words, with some of the same quiet excitement I felt in me. He leaned forward, and I knew what was coming. He hesitated right before he kissed me, looking into my eyes. I felt that dip in my chest as I looked back. It was like something was tickling me on the inside, making me all giddy. I shut my eyes as he kissed me. He ran his hand across my jaw, up under my ear, back into my hair like he’d done in the truck earlier. Feeling him do that to me, everything in my head stopped. It wouldn’t have mattered where we were because I couldn’t have told you. All that existed was him. Him and the flourish of wild sensations that whipped everything in my body up, making it all go faster. That feeling poured out of me. I told him by that kiss and he told me right back.
And then he was slowing down. I wondered why, but the way he kissed me, slow and deep, like he was wanting more even as he was reluctantly stopping, gave me enough to distract me so that I didn’t protest. In one movement, he’d pulled away, broken the kiss, but he rested his forehead against mine. I could almost feel the blood in him throbbing against his skin, pounding to the same beat that pulsed through me. Everything in me was concentrated on him with his face, his mouth, so close to mine, but now my thoughts could clarify. He was thinking about what happened in the truck. That’s why he’d stopped.
He leaned back slightly, his breathing deeper than normal. “What happened today at the library?” He g
ave me no room to escape as he looked into my eyes.
I tried to look away, but found I couldn’t with him so close. “I…” I eased back, trying to get some distance, my head spinning with thoughts on what to say. How did I explain why I had reacted that way? How did I let him know it wasn’t him? And even more so, that it wasn’t me?
I couldn’t tell him. Not now, not here. Maybe not ever. I didn’t want him to know me that way, know me as that girl.
“It’s not something I like talking about.”
The tension in his eyes heightened the anxious pull in my chest. Questions swam in his eyes.
He finally looked away. “Fair enough.” His face became a mask, eyes lowered to the coffee in his hands as he rolled the liquid around in the cup. It was quiet for a moment.
“I think…” I cleared my throat as I carefully chose my words. “It will be okay.”
Grant kept his face lowered, but he looked up at me. His mouth was still drawn in a straight line. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he finally said.
“You don’t,” I said instantly. “It’s not…” I took a breath out of frustration. My eyes finally settled on his, soft and gray, even if they were a bit clouded. It calmed me, seeing his eyes. “You make me feel safe,” I said gently.
He looked back to his hands, though his face relaxed some.
“And alive,” I added as my cheeks pinked.
With that, he looked up at me. Despite the slight blush on my face, I didn’t look away from him.
“I haven’t felt like this…” my voice trailed off before I said ‘in a long time,’ because really, I’d never felt this way before.
Grant looked down at his hands with a slow smile. “I know what you mean.”
Chapter 10
I sang in the shower again. I had to get up early for work, and I still sang. There was a Green Day song I got hooked on for a while when I lived with Sam. “Time of Your Life.” For about three weeks, I sang it so much that it started to drive him crazy. So of course I sang it more. I sang it in the shower, I played it first thing when I picked up my guitar. One time, when I couldn’t sleep, I even whispered it right next to his face at three in the morning. He was so pissed. It was priceless. When I sang it in the shower, he was especially vicious with the explosion harmonies.
Call Me Ana: A Novel Page 12