by Lowe, T. I.
“Good night,” I whine back. I don’t bother with any more commentary. I go do my bathroom business and practically fall back into bed.
Chapter Five
Julia
He’s so boring. This trip is so boring. Ugh. I’m used to my life staying in a constant chaotic motion. This sedentary lifestyle is making me antsy. Greyson crashes and so I stomp out the door and begin walking loops around the campground. Eventually the little fur ball shows up and starts shadowing me. Little Mrs. Betty hollers for Fifi on one of our many loops, but I tell her I don’t mind the company. It seems these two are night owls, too.
Around one in the morning, I return Fifi and crawl into to my comfy bed, but am unable to settle into it. It’s like my mind doesn’t know how to rest. I toss and turn and think about going into Greyson’s room and bothering him. I feel lonely out here by myself. I’m not used to being alone much and it’s a bit unnerving. I lay flat on my back and place my hands on my concaved stomach, feeling the rumbles echoing in my hollowness. My stomach is cramping painfully, so I surrender all of my focus to that pain until sleep finally finds me…
Sadly, it only finds me for a few hours. I lay here, frustrated. I don’t sleep much and only do so in sporadic stretches. I’m not sure if it’s just time finally catching up with me or the weight of life lately, but I’m tiring. I’m tiring a lot.
I try to be a good guest and stay put for another annoying hour before I wander to the bathroom. I splash water on my face before giving it a good inspection. My eyes are a bit puffy from the restless night and my lips are dry. I help myself to some of Greyson’s lip balm after I brush my teeth. He wants to harass me about all of my beauty products, but he has a substantial amount himself. I plunder through his cleansers and moisturizes and aftershaves until I’m bored with it. I can’t take it any longer so I tiptoe into Greyson’s bedroom. It’s fairly roomy for an RV bedroom with an extra-long bed. I’m guessing it was designed this way. It’s obvious this is a custom motorhome. A regular bed would never accommodate this giant of a man.
Greyson is sprawled out on his bed with his arms slung over his head and is lightly snoring. He looks so boyish and I catch myself smiling down at him. I leave him alone for the time being and sit on the end of his bed, so I can study the map pinned to the back of his door. He has a well-charted course that begins here in Maine and zigzags all along the east until it ends in Florida. Side notes of excursions are marked by lines drawn to certain destinations. A lobster boat trip is scribbled by Maine. My nose wrinkles at this one. That doesn’t do anything for me. The line then travels down to Boston where a side note simply states wicked. Who knows what that means? The line then swerves to the west and stops in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Figures. Greyson Stone has the biggest chocolate infatuation of any person I have ever met. I think it’s the man’s only weakness. Or that’s what I thought until he showed back up a few months ago. By the looks of him, he’s found a terrible weakness more damaging than chocolate could ever be.
There is a star on the town of Intercourse as well. Funny. Maybe he does plan on having some fun on this adventure after all. The line veers back to the east and stops in Maryland. The side note says fun with Mom. That’s sweet. Greyson has always been super-close with his mom. I’ve met Mrs. Barbara and she’s a great lady. I envy their relationship. They make it look so effortless to just love one another. This stop on the trip perks me up. I’d like to foster some momma time from her. With all the tragedy going on lately, I feel the need to be mothered some and that woman does it right.
The course hops over to West Virginia, where fly fishing and waterfalls are scribbled. The course continues on to Kentucky and ping-pongs between Tennessee, Georgia, South Carolina, back to Georgia and ending in Florida. The excursion in Atlanta catches my attention. It is a Bleu Streak concert. Bleu Streak is the hottest band in the country at the moment and I feel some excitement for this adventure finally beginning to build.
I go grab my phone and ease back into the bedroom to snap some pictures of the map. I peep over at Greyson and he hasn’t stirred at all. I focus back on the map and take several pictures so I can try to keep up with the adventure. At least this will give me something to focus on, and I really need a focus because all I can think about is having a drink. I can near about taste it, the urge is so strong—even at six in the morning.
I place my phone on the nightstand and crawl up the bed and perch myself beside Greyson. It pains me to see him this way and I’m still wondering what abusive poison he has indulged in. I hate that this dangerous lifestyle has caught up to him. I find myself petting his soft, short hair. It’s barely long enough to shadow his scalp. It really doesn’t suit him at all. His features are so refined with a smooth complexion and strong jawline. Those high cheekbones our industry covets are more pronounced with his thinness, but they continue to evoke male beauty. Greyson Stone would definitely make for one yummy vampire at the moment. I just wish so badly that really is what he’s been up to, but I don’t buy it. His full lips are closely set and seem to always have a smile playing along them—even now with him sleeping. His long eyelashes are too graceful to be lying on the shadowy dark circles under his eyes. I give in and run my fingertips along the side of his handsome face. He turns to my touch and lets out a sigh, but continues sleeping. Even in this unhealthy state, Greyson seems so at peace.
“Greyson,” I whisper, not being able to resist any longer. I’m lonely and want his company even if it means I have to put up with a grouchy version that is only going to bicker with me. I keep running my fingers along the soft fuzz covering his head until he brushes my hand away. “Greyson…”
“Go away,” he mumbles.
His eyes stay shut so I decide to tease him. I peel the covers back, but he quickly snatches them back up without opening his eyes.
“Do you find me attractive?” I whisper in his ear and press my body close to him. He’s so warm and yummy and I could be content snuggling up to him. He rolls on his side away from me, leaving a void.
“No. Now let me sleep.” His voice is so thick with sleep that I know I should let him rest, but...
I run my fingers along his exposed bare back and he shivers before scooting away from my touch. “Not even a little?” His body’s reaction says yes, but I know he’ll deny it.
“I’m too tired to deal with you.” He pulls his pillow over his head and buries deeper in the blanket.
Since he’s not going to play along, I give up and go seek out coffee. It’s one of the few things I can do without having to place an order. I’m rewarded with a nice gourmet selection. I have to give it to Greyson—he has exquisite taste. I select the French roast and set it to brewing while I attempt to inspect the weather outside, which is impossible. It’s still early so the fog is hiding the day. I grab a cup and sit in my designated chair from last night. Mrs. Betty’s place is a ghost town, too. I bet they sleep most of the day. Isn’t that what the retirees do? Greyson fits right in with this crowd.
It’s late afternoon and I’m ready to come undone. I spent my morning nibbling on an apple I swiped from the well-stocked fridge and ended up drinking the entire pot of coffee. My caloric intake topped out at close to one hundred. I also set out to walk the length of this small lake. It ended up being a seven and a half mile round trip. I leisurely walked it to eat up some time while I sipped a bottle of water and listened to Pandora on my phone. I can’t sit still or things start catching up with me. It’s relentless. Ever nagging and taunting. This is the time of the year I normally numb out completely at any measure. I’m here though and I can’t numb it. Not right now, anyway. My hands are trembling, so I keep wringing them together, hoping to rub them still. It’s not working. It never works.
I end up at the small amphitheater and decide to do sprints up the wood risers until spots start dancing in my vision. The dizziness is so great that it is the only thing I can focus on. Good. Mission accomplished. I am slowly heading back to the RV, trying not to let the
dizziness overtake me completely. As our site comes back into view, I’m relieved to find Greyson sitting outside dressed in baggy shorts and a long sleeve T-shirt with a ball cap pushed low on his head. He has another shake in hand and bowl of some sort of food placed in his lap.
“Sleeping and eating. Is that all you’re going to do on this trip, honey?” I ask as I plop in the chair beside him. I swipe his bottle of water and slowly down the entire thing.
He shovels a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth and glares at me. “Is starving yourself and exercise all you can do?”
“Ouch. Play pretty,” I say in my sweetest voice.
He pushes the shake in my cup holder. “Here. I’ve already drank one.”
I try to appease him and take a sip. It’s chocolate flavor and is quite rich. I’m guessing this is around a two hundred calorie shake, maybe three hundred. I drink this and I will be good for the day and maybe he will lay off me. We sit in silence as he works his way through the oatmeal and I nurse my shake.
“Yoo-hoo,” we hear and both snap up our heads towards the sound of Mrs. Betty’s voice. “You young’uns got supper plans?”
I hold up my protein shake. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“No ma’am,” Greyson pipes in at the same time.
“Good. The both of you look to be in need of a good home cooked meal. Stan and I would like y’all to have supper with us around seven. That time good?”
“Okay,” Greyson agrees. He stands and walks over to her. “I’m Greyson, by the way.” He motions towards me. “And this is Julia.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, young man. Julia and I spent a good bit of time together yesterday.” Mrs. Betty smiles over at me.
“Really?” Greyson looks back at me skeptically and I have to fight the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. It’s what he gets for sleeping so much.
“Why yes. Fifi is in love with her.”
“Well. She tends to be irresistible.” That sounded like a compliment coming from Greyson Stone. Wow. “Fifi?” he asks.
“My Pomeranian,” she answers. The little fur ball tumbles our way as if on cue.
Greyson places his bowl on the picnic table and swoops up the little thing. “I think I’m in love.” He cuddles Fifi close to his face. Picture perfect shot right there. “Well, if you are so kindly cooking us supper, the least I can do is take care of your Fifi until then.” He’s grinning. I can’t believe this little pooch has cheered him up so quickly. What I would give to have been able to light him up like that. He annoys me and I know I annoy him, but I never want him to hurt. Watching him, my eyes tear up at knowing he has hurt recently, and there’s nothing I can do about it to make it better. I’m scared I will just hinder him more, but right now I’m too selfish to leave.
Mrs. Betty laughs, breaking me out of my reverie, and heads back to her camper. “Okay. But I expect you to return her at seven.”
“Deal,” he says and eases back towards me. He sits his long self right down in the grass and starts frolicking with that little white fur ball. She yaps at him playfully and licks his face every chance she gets. He keeps giggling like a kid.
“You look like a pansy, Stone,” I tease.
He doesn’t bother to look at me as he tickles Fifi’s belly. “Tiny dogs make me happy. I could care less what people think of me. Life’s too short to worry about nonsense like that.” He stands and sweeps the little dog up in his graceful arms and begins walking away from me.
“Where are you going?”
“Taking Fifi for a walk,” he says over his shoulder with the little dog cradled to his chest. Lucky dog.
“It works better if you actually let her walk.” I chuckle.
“Nah. She’s good.” With that he heads to the lakeside trail.
I guess I’m not invited, so I finish the shake and go get cleaned up. After the shower, I give my bags a thorough looking through and am pretty ticked that no makeup and no flat iron can be found. There are also no pretty clothes. Just a hodgepodge of shirts and pants. All plain and none coordinated together. It looks like he just opened my dresser and threw things in. Well, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he did. None of my bra and panty sets match, either. Ugh. I’m sitting by my suitcase fuming when Greyson comes in.
“You did a lousy job packing. I need a flat iron and I have to have makeup.” I growl the words at him.
He sets Fifi down and heads to the fridge for a water. “We’re camping. Just tie your hair up or let it be. I like the waves, actually,” Greyson says as he inspects my hair.
“I like it straight and sleek. Not wild and wavy,” I grumble as I pick up Fifi and love on her some. The darn thing is too cute.
Greyson places a bowl beside me and fills it with water. Fifi wiggles out of my arms and starts lapping up the cool water. My hand moves over to her on its own accord and pets her. Greyson runs his fingers through my hair softly in the same manner as he steps around me before sitting in the leather chair across from me.
“I think you should kidnap Fifi, too,” I comment.
“I haven’t kidnapped you and won’t start with this little girl.” He bites into an apple, watching me. “Besides, I couldn’t steal Fifi from that sweet little lady. Man, I love that southern accent. Where do you think she’s from?”
“It’s not a South Carolina twang. Maybe Georgia.” I shrug my shoulders.
“I wish you would rediscover that southern twang you had when we first met.”
I look over at him and he’s smiling with those big green eyes sparkling at the memory, I guess. I keep forgetting how long we’ve known each other. The last two years with him disappearing makes me feel like we’ve somehow lost the history between us.
“Greyson, please tell me where you’ve been.”
He shakes his head and loses the smile. “It’s time to go eat.” He picks up Fifi and walks out the door before I can harass him any longer.
“You’re going to tell me eventually,” I say to his back, and he stays quiet. “I sure hope alcohol is served at this meal. I need a drink,” I grumble under my breath. He hears me, though, and cuts me a sharp look. I just glare back at him.
We walk over and the smell of savory meat cooking on the grill finds me, making my stomach growl and my mouth water simultaneously. It’s painful and so I focus on it as I always do. We reach the site and find a cute little feller with a mop of curly grey hair manning the grill that is covered in barbeque chicken and fat sausages.
“Stan?” Greyson asks with one of his hands held out while the other holds on to Fifi like a baby. “I’m Greyson.”
Stan shakes his hand then mine. “You must be Julia.”
“Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Betty exits the camper with her hands full of dishes. Greyson hands Fifi over to me and goes to help her. She’s not a baby, so I sit Fifi down on the ground and stroll over to the picnic table.
“You young’uns ready to eat?” the little lady asks. She sets the table. Greyson falls right in and starts filling glasses with lemonade.
“I’m starving,” he says.
“Good. We got a feast,” Stan declares as he unloads the grill and brings the bounty to the table.
Greyson tries beckoning me to the table, but I shake my head and brush off his request with a flick of my wrist.
“Suga’, you not gonna eat?” Mrs. Betty asks.
“I’m good. I already had a shake.” I sit in one of their camper chairs.
“Well, bless your heart,” Mrs. Betty says as she reenters the camper.
I shoot her a look. “Humph.” I sigh.
“She’s sweet,” Greyson says but then looks over at me and catches the frown on my face. “What?”
“She just insulted me.” I cross my arms and gaze over to the lake.
Greyson comes over and stands next to me with his hands on his too lean hips. “How?”
“Bless your heart is the South’s way of saying you’re stupid.”
He smirks at this and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “So, you say you’re not hungry?”
“Yep.”
“Well, bless your heart,” he draws out in a pathetic attempt to sound southern.
“You don’t even come close to pulling that accent off, Stone,” I sass back.
He raises an eyebrow at me and throws his hands up in defeat before going over and sitting at the picnic table. Stan blesses the food and the three of them dig in.
For the next hour I sit in misery as Greyson shovels in food at a considerable rate. I’m worrying if he is overdoing it, but he looks so darn happy. I sit back and watch him consume nearly an entire chicken and three helpings of potato salad and baked beans. He’s so cute, covered in sticky barbeque sauce and carrying on a lively conversation with our company like he’s known them all of his life. That’s the thing about Greyson Stone—he doesn’t meet a stranger. Meeting people and getting to know them is something this man can do with such ease.
He eventually throws in his napkin only to pick it back up when Mrs. Betty pulls out a banana pudding. I. Hate. Bananas. I think it’s something in the Thorton blood. Even the smell of them makes me nauseous. Before the gagging starts, I excuse myself and head back to the RV.
I flop on my bed and make the mistake of checking my messages. Tabloids are now reporting falsely that I vanished with a few other models for another stint in rehab. Great. Just great. Another message pings from my agent. She thinks it’s the perfect time to agree to another movie role with all of the buzz around my name. Leave it to her to work the negative publicity to further my career. I’ve put in my time with roles in probably twenty films. Mostly supporting roles. A few leads, but I’m over that too. It’s just as stressful as the modeling career. All of it is just too overwhelming anymore, and I don’t know what I want and where I want to go next. Feeling defeated, I power off the phone and settle on my bed, trying not to cry as I wait for Greyson to return.
I guess about an hour later, he shuffles in slowly, looking a bit green. He sits in one of the plush leather chairs diagonally from me and takes several deep breaths.