"Hi, Henry. It's me. Chelsea. I got home a few weeks ago. I've had some time to think. A lot of time to think, actually. Pretty much all I did for the last year and a half was think ... I'm not saying any of this right. Can we talk, sometime? I'd really like to see you. Okay. Call me. I've missed you."
Henry clicked his phone off and set it on the seat beside him, but Chelsea’s familiar voice echoed through the car still. He knew she was back, but hearing her voice again shook him in a way he didn't think was still possible. She wanted to meet, but she was going to have to wait a long time for him to call her back. Never again.
He pulled into his parking lot, and Tessa ran over the curb when she parked beside him. She hopped out of her car and checked her tires before peering up at him.
"Did you pop one?" he asked
"Not this time." The dark way she said it made him laugh out loud.
"But another time?"
"Once or twice... or four times. I have bad depth perception, okay?"
He held up his hands like he was defending himself. "Hey, I'm not being critical." But he mentally noted that he would drive in the future if they went anywhere together. Forget Chelsea and her voice mail. He wouldn't let her ruin tonight, though he knew her voice would now be in the back of his head for a while. She missed him. So what? She’d made her choice. And what would they talk about anyway? How much she wanted him to change so they could be together? How it was his fault for not compromising and understanding her feelings? They'd had enough of those conversations two years ago.
Tessa followed Henry up to his second floor apartment. When he opened the door, he smelled the spicy chicken and his mouth watered. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.
"It smells amazing in here." She took off her backpack and set it by the door. "Did you make that?"
"Yeah." He tossed his back pack next to hers and went into the kitchen, Tessa following close behind. He opened the slow cooker and shredded the chicken before pulling out sour cream, cheese, pico de gallo, and tortillas from the fridge. "Tacos sound okay?"
"Every time I think you can't surprise me more, you do." She found the paper plates in a cupboard and put a tortilla on each plate.
"I can't take all the credit. My little sister taught me how to cook, and I quote, 'If I can teach you to cook, I can teach anyone.'"
"Is she a chef?"
"She has a cooking blog that blew up in popularity about a year ago. Now she goes on Southwest Living every Saturday morning and does a live cooking demonstration."
"I've seen that show before! That's so cool." Tessa topped her chicken with all the toppings and sat at the tiny card table they had shoved in to the corner.
"I'm going to be on it next weekend," he said impulsively. "You can come with me if you want."
"You're going to be on the show? Doing what?"
Her incredulity made him smile. "This. Helping her cook. They like me to come out every once in a while and add a twist to her show."
"What twist?" She took a huge bite out of her taco and a little bit of red sauce dripped down her chin, but she didn't seem to notice, what with her chasing her first bite with another huge bite.
He tilted his chair back, grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter, and ripped one off for her. "You'll have to come with me to see."
Her cheeks turned pink when she realized she'd dripped food everywhere. She swiped at her mouth and folded the napkin into fours before stuffing it half way under her plate. "I've got a test next Tuesday and with the road show..."
He waited, not pushing her.
"But maybe I can take a few hours off." She smacked one of her hands against the table. "I'm in."
"Great," he said, knowing he had a stupid grin on his face. "I'll pick you up at eight."
* * *
Tessa needed to bring up the make-over idea, and soon. Dinner had been delicious and they'd spent another thirty minutes hashing out road show details, but it was time to get to the real reason why she'd come. Especially since the lab would be closing in ninety minutes and she still had at least an hour’s worth of work to finish her assignment.
Henry stood at the sink rinsing off the serving spoons, which gave Tessa a moment to figure out how to sell this to him. She glanced around the apartment like it might give her some ideas, but it lacked any sort of inspiration. They owned a threadbare brown couch, a scratched-up leather chair, a big screen television, a card table, and didn't have one picture hanging on their wall.
"We should decorate your apartment," she said, on a burst of inspiration.
He looked around and shrugged. "Then I'd have more crap I'd have to move out when I graduate."
"Decorating is not about convenience. It's about feeling at home."
"I'm not here enough to care." He took her glass from the table and set it in the sink.
"But when you are here, it’ll be nice. How things look matter. Maybe more people would want to come over here if it was homey and attractive."
"I guess. But I don't really care if people come over."
She let out a frustrated sigh. Her plan of getting him to agree to redecorate his house, then convincing him of how great it was, then subtly transferring that over to letting him agree to do the same thing to him was going nowhere.
"I want to give you a makeover!" she blurted out.
He leaned against the counter, his arms folded, showing that he had bigger biceps than she'd realized. "My apartment?"
"No. You."
Silence met her statement. "Like with make-up?" He spoke slowly, like she might be crazy.
"Of course not!"
"I'm confused."
She stood and stepped in front of him, taking off his glasses before he could stop her. She tossed them onto the counter and used her hand to lift the thick, dark hair off his forehead so she could really look at him. He stared back at her, derailing her train of thought. She'd noticed the eyes before, but not the eyelashes. Black and long, they were the kind of eyelashes she'd envied her entire life. She couldn't begrudge them on him because of how they framed his eyes in a way that made it impossible to look away. He shifted, unfolding his arms, and she realized how close they were. She yanked her hand back and held it to her stomach. Focus, Tessa.
"New glasses. Maybe a t-shirt and jeans. Layla could give you a haircut. Nothing too crazy."
He shook his head and tried to walk past her, but she blocked his path. "Listen, Henry. I've gotten to know you over the past few weeks. You're a great guy and are going to make some girl very happy. But no one else knows that because they can't get past this." She waved at the plaid shirt, striped tie combo. "Your hair is so long I can't even see your eyes, which are the first thing a girl looks at when she's noticing a guy."
"I thought it was his muscles."
The muscles in his arms flexed and her gaze flew in that direction. He really did have great arms for someone in academia.
"Well. That too. But the eyes have it. And the lips..." Again she lost her train of thought, studying his full mouth, with a hint of dark stubble around it. Stubble was her downfall. The stubble creased as those lips tipped into a smirk.
"My lips..." he prompted.
Her face flamed. "There's nothing wrong with them.” She took a huge step back to clear her mind. The problem was that Henry’s apartment was too hot. She fanned herself. "But it's difficult to look past the rest of you to see it."
The smile dropped and a muscle ticked in his jaw. "I don't want a girl who only cares about what I look like."
"It's not about them caring what you look like! It's about you caring what you look like."
"How very after-school special of you." Because his glasses were off, she could actually see the way his eyes crinkled in amusement at the sides, even if he still wasn't smiling.
She laughed and grabbed his arm, taking him to the couch. "See? You're funny, you are an amazing cook, and you genuinely care about people."
"And I have good lips."
She c
leared her throat and forced herself not to look again. "I mean, sure. Yeah."
He sat on the couch and tipped his head against the back of it, rolling it toward her. "I don't think so, Tessa."
She plopped down beside him, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs under her. Though ugly, the couch was surprisingly comfortable. She needed to leave, but the longer she was here, the more she wanted to stay. "Don’t say no right away. Please?"
He closed his eyes and his face relaxed, and for a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep. She nudged his leg with her foot and he cracked one eye open. "Fine," he said, sounding resigned. He rubbed his eyes. "When did my life become a teen movie?"
Tessa threw her arms around him and gave him an impulsive hug. His eyes popped open, and she let go, her heart pounding a little more than usual, but clapped her hands to cover the burst of energy that had overtaken her. "You won't regret this, I swear."
His mouth straightened into a grim line. "I already do."
Chapter 14
Henry had been bitten by a personality-altering bug. Never mind that he’d never heard of such an insect. It was the only explanation.
A make-over.
He cringed again, thinking of it. Something about Tessa made it impossible for him to say no. He could only hope that she’d forget, as unlikely a possibility as it may be.
He glanced sideways at where she sat, staring out the window of his truck. She’d been quiet since he picked her up fifteen minutes before to go to the television studio. She’d mentioned a midterm on Monday, and had removed a book from her bulging backpack, but it had sat on her lap unopened since they left her apartment.
He was used to seeing Tessa always in motion, moving from one project or idea to the next that he didn’t know quite what to do with her being so quiet. It was a comfortable silence, but Henry had been looking forward to hearing her voice again.
“How’s your studying going?” he asked.
“Ugh.”
“That good?”
She stuffed her book in her back pack and twisted to face him. “Midterms are a modern, legal torture device invented by sadistic college professors.”
He nodded gravely. “Which is why I hope to be one someday.”
“Figures. You do seem to have an evil streak in you. Mass wolf spider killings. Dissecting bees….I don’t know where else to go with this.” Her lips twitched. “I think I need a break from my books. It’s all starting to get to me.”
“But I like your academia-based conspiracy theories.”
“They are pretty good.” She tucked one of her legs under her and looked around the cab of his truck. “I don’t think I appreciated how big this truck is when I saw it in the dark.”
Henry was used to comments about his lifted truck—either excitement because someone needed him moving, or annoyance because it always took up two parking spots. “I got sick of my little car getting stuck in the mud when I had to go down to Nogales. Last time I had to walk three miles before I could get enough reception to call a tow truck to come and drag me out.”
“Go big or go home.”
“Exactly.” This truck had been a lifesaver more than once. It guzzled gas, was unwieldy to park, and drew attention to him in the exact way he didn’t want the attention, but he still loved his it.
“I guess I just didn’t picture you with this truck.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve got that whole tweed jacket, leather-elbow professor thing going for you. And you’re so practical. I pictured you in a sensible sedan, not a rugged truck.” He felt her taking him in, and fought the urge to squirm. “You are a contradiction, Henry. I can’t put you in a box.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said. They arrived at the studio and he pulled into the parking lot.
“It’s a brave thing,” she said. Before he could formulate a response, she turned to the studio. “This is it?”
Henry took in the three-level stucco building he’d been to several times over the past year. It was on a small side street off of Broadway, surrounded by cracked sidewalk, scattered mesquite trees, and overgrown rosemary bushes near the tinted, sliding doors. “Yes.”
“I pictured something bigger.” She stretched her hands up. “More glamorous. Like one of the high rises in downtown.”
“Me too, the first time I came. It looks nicer inside.”
“Anything I should know before we go in?” Tessa rubbed her hands on her pants. She couldn’t be nervous. Not Tessa.
“Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine.”
Tessa followed him into the cool building, her arm brushing against his. He hadn’t meant for her to literally stay so close, but he wasn’t complaining.
"Henry!" The secretary gave him a warm smile. She handed him a laminated name tag with a metal clip that he fastened to the bottom of his shirt. It said HENRY WHITE, guest host.
"And you must be Tessa," she said, handing her another name tag. It read: TESSA ALEXANDER, guest viewer. “Clarissa wanted me to send you both to the green room when you got here. Do you remember where it is?"
"I do."
"Great. Holler if you get lost." Her eyes twinkled. "And I can't wait for your segment."
Tessa stayed close to Henry past a set of double doors and through a long, winding maze of cubicles and hallways.
“I’m completely lost,” Tessa whispered.
“We’re almost there.” They passed a handful of behind-the-scenes people Henry had met over the last year, and introduced a couple of them to Tessa.
"You're popular," she said as the weather guy from the morning news gave Henry knuckles in passing.
He shrugged. "I'm here a lot."
To his surprise, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.
"It's time for make-over lesson number one.”
So she hadn’t forgotten.
She continued. “When someone compliments you, you own it. Let's try this again. Henry, you're popular."
The urge to tease her was too compelling to ignore. He widened his grin, leaned so close his cheek almost brushed hers, and lowered his voice to a husky tone to say, “That’s because they all want to be me.”
She rolled her eyes, the side of her mouth hitching upward. "You're not taking this seriously."
He held his hands out innocently. "What? I’m channeling my inner-Logan.”
She covered her mouth, but a laugh still spilled out. "Stop. How about you channel your inner-you?"
He folded his arms, uncomfortable for reasons he didn’t want to explore. "And how about we never use the term make-over again?”
“I knew that was going to be a sticking point for you.” She held up her hand when he went to defend himself. “I can respect the feminine connotations of the word. I’ve been trying to think of an appropriate substitute.”
“Yes, please.” Henry had sworn her to secrecy, and if one of them slipped up, the word make-over must never be used.
Her face lit up. “How about renovation! The Henry Renovation project.”
He stopped at a door with a sign beside it that read: Green Room. "That sounds a lot better." If he had to do this at all, at least that sounded less like make-up and prom dresses, and more like knocking down walls and using chain saws.
He opened the Green Room door and with it came the strong scent of coffee and pastries and a flurry of voices.
Henry saw his sister right away, standing beside their dad and Clarissa, the host of Southwest Living. Clarissa laughed at something Henry’s dad said, smacking him on the arm, while Ava looked on with the kind of glare she reserved for people like Chelsea. A few more people milled about the room, eating and chatting, some he recognized as other regular guests on the show, and others who might have been crewmembers.
Ava spotted Henry and walked toward him with long, purposeful strides. She grabbed his arm and turned him so he was facing their dad.
"See?"
Clarissa leaned closer to their dad while he
spoke, and he ended up taking her elbow and leading her toward the back of the room. Nothing weird so far.
"They’re talking."
Ava let out a frustrated huff. "They've been flirting. For the past fifteen minutes."
He studied them again, closer this time, but it looked like normal conversation to him. "They've known each other for almost a year, Ava. They're friends."
"She keeps touching his arm and giggling, and Dad’s puffing out his chest like he's about to enter a weight lifting competition."
"Is this the weird thing you were talking about last week?"
"Of course it is!" She lowered her voice when a few people turned toward them. "Dad doesn't flirt with women."
"He flirts with men?"
Ava folded her arms. "Are you being purposely obtuse? I have to go on camera in less than thirty minutes and those two are stressing me out! I'm so worked up I haven't even been able to give you crap for how bad you look today!"
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll try to take this seriously, but I really don't think it's as big of a deal as you're making it out to be." He pulled her into a quick hug and glanced at Tessa over his sister's shoulder. She had stepped back a few feet to give them some space. Henry motioned her closer.
Ava raised her eyebrows, and he knew a long phone conversation from her awaited when he got home. She always had a million questions, and evasive answers wouldn’t satisfy her. "This is Tessa." He stepped closer to her. "We're in the same ward."
"We're friends," Tessa corrected.
"Just friends?" Ava elbowed Henry a little harder than necessary.
Tessa nodded. "As great as Henry is, I'm kind of dating his roommate."
"The arrogant doctor?" Ava slapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she said through her fingers.
To Henry's relief, Tessa laughed. "That's the one. But I still like him."
"He is hot," Ava said. "But he knows it."
Tessa shifted, probably not knowing how to respond, and Henry wasn't going to defend Logan. They were saved when Clarissa called out Henry's name in her sing-songy voice. Clarissa and his dad walked over to their group, and his dad pulled Henry into a tight, one-pat-on-the-back hug, something he'd started doing after Mom died. He said life was too short to be embarrassed about showing affection for the people you love. It had taken a few years, but Henry noticed that his dad's habits had drifted down to him and Ava, and they both had turned into huggers.
One Little Kiss (Christian Romance) Page 8