My Life as an Album (Books 1-4): A small town, southern fiction series

by LJ Evans

  Claire came out of the bathroom. Her tawny brown skin and long legs were showcased in a pair of tiny jean shorts. Claire was beautiful—model beautiful. She’d actually been offered cover spots for some magazines striving to be more diverse, but she’d rejected them. Claire didn’t want to be known for just her looks. She wanted to be known for changing the way the world saw ethnic issues.

  Claire joined PJ at the table. She saw Seth’s brochure and grabbed it. “Oh. My. God. He’s gorgeous. I might just take this picture into the bedroom with me for some alone time.”

  PJ grimaced, “We share that bedroom, thank you very much.” She felt a tinge of something that wasn’t quite jealousy but was close, causing her insides to tighten.

  Claire continued staring wide-eyed at the picture of Seth as she shoved blueberry muffin into her open mouth. “Did the earth tremble and angels weep when you kissed him?”

  Color swarmed PJ’s cheeks. How she wished she could control the schoolgirl-like blush. But the more she tried to control it, the deeper it got. “He kissed me.”

  “Girl! And you came home?”

  Claire’s umber eyes looked up at PJ like she was crazy. She shook her head in disbelief, making her tight, midnight curls bounce almost as much as PJ’s usually did.

  “I was writing a piece on him,” PJ protested.

  “A piece…” Her best friend burst out laughing, spraying blueberry muffin crumbs all over PJ and her laptop.

  “Geez, what are you, twelve?” she growled, shaking the laptop off onto Claire.

  “Holy smokes, I’d love to grab that piece.”

  PJ stole the pamphlet back, looking at the handsome face staring up at her. No question. Seth Carmen was absolutely stunning. His dark hair and bronze skin were at striking odds to those ocean blue eyes, giving gorgeous a new name.

  Truth be told, Claire would fit right next to him like an exquisite cover on a romance novel. She was PJ’s complete opposite, and not just in looks.

  When the matching tool had made them roommates their freshman year, PJ had been certain Claire was going to ask to change rooms, but somehow their differences had tied them together.

  Claire had a big, boisterous family while PJ just had her brother, Justice. Claire was involved in everything she could get her hands into, especially BSU and politics, while PJ just went to class and the school newspaper. Claire was all notice-the-hell-out-of-me to PJ’s mind-your-own-frickin’-business. But once they’d bonded, they’d become inseparable.

  Claire grabbed the bio back a second time in their ping-pong match and waved at PJ, grabbing her from her memories. “You’re honestly saying that you can look at this hot Cuban love child and not think about getting naked and sweaty?”

  It was impossible for her to look at Seth and not think that way, but PJ would never admit that to Claire. She wouldn’t let a gorgeous smile break her resolve. After all, four years of parties with sexy college guys hadn’t broken her resolve.

  “I can,” she lied, grabbing her laptop and heading toward their dinky patio. If she’d thought she’d get rid of Claire, she’d been wrong. Claire tagged along behind her.

  “You are too. Maybe you should drop everything and run over to this Latino-lover’s place right now just so you can kiss him again and forget about your self-imposed celibacy,” Claire said, flopping into the chaise next to PJ.

  That kiss. It had been her first real kiss in a long time. There’d been that one make out session with the British exchange student her sophomore year and that was it. Not because guys didn’t try, but because she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be that girl again. Not after the humiliation she’d experienced as a teen.

  PJ tried to put the memories aside to focus on her blog. She was writing a two-pronged piece on The Green Room. The food had been excellent, but the service was… annoying. She felt her anger flash again at the waitress who’d had the gall to write that note on Seth’s receipt while PJ was sitting with him. Who would write a note like that when a guy was with a girl? Was it that obvious they weren’t together?

  There were two things about PJ that no one expected. Her strength and her temper. Everyone underestimated her because of her size. She was a measly five-feet with a slight frame. But her brother called her small and mighty, S&M, for a reason. She was all muscle. Muscle she worked hard to obtain. And her temper could put Godzilla to shame, even if it was more silent and deadly than crashing through buildings.

  She’d gotten her muscle working out at Justice’s gym. He was proud of his Ninja Warrior training grounds, and she was too. He’d grown it over the last four years into one of the best in SoCal. People used it to train for the actual show and the kids swarmed to it.

  Not only had the gym allowed her to challenge her muscles, it also allowed her to supplement her meager income from her blog. Her coaching fees were paying for her last year of school and helping her put a few dollars aside for the graduate program that had wait-listed her.

  Claire placed the bio of Seth back on her laptop.

  “So, call him.” Claire tormented her as PJ shoved the picture aside to type. “Better yet,” Claire continued, “just show up.”

  That got her attention. “I can’t just show up. People don’t do that.”

  “He told you to.”

  “Yeah. And what do you think I’d find? Him engaged in something extracurricular with some leggy blonde.” The thought of Seth Carmen’s smoldering blue eyes, rock hard muscles, and intense attitude engaged in anything like that made PJ’s body flash a response all the way down.

  Claire wiped at her mouth. “God, just the thought of that man engaged in anything makes my vagina ache.”

  PJ stopped typing and looked at her best friend. “You are so crass.” Even though it was what PJ herself had thought, there was no way she would have said it out loud.

  Claire shrugged. “Just speaking the truth, Butterfly.”

  “The truth doesn’t have to be crass.”

  “It’s better than being insanely proper. Or frigid and cold.”

  That raised PJ’s hackles, and her eyes flashed as she snapped out. “You know I’m anything but frigid and cold.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes in a way that was never a good sign. “Once upon a time, maybe. Now. Frigid and cold.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “So, prove me wrong,” Claire dared.

  PJ caught on to what her friend was trying to do, and her temper slowly fizzled. “No way. I’m not going over there to have sex with him just so you can feel better.”

  “See now. You automatically went there. I didn’t even mention sex,” Claire teased her mercilessly.

  PJ’s stomach flopped over at the thought of her muscular legs wrapped around his chiseled middle. It was his fault. Her brain hadn’t gone there at all when Locke had first given her the brochure and asked her to write a post about him. It hadn’t been until he’d looked down at her with his crystal blue eyes and surprised the hell out of her with his heart-stopping kiss that her thoughts had gone in that direction. Her reaction to him had been like ice in the sun, melting instantly. She’d reacted without even thinking about all the things she’d promised herself and had plunged her tongue into his mouth before she’d even realized it.

  She sighed because maybe Claire was right. Maybe she was becoming frigid and cold if even she was thinking she’d melted into him. But she really wasn’t ready to cross that invisible line she’d drawn in the sand, was she?

  “Don’t you have to go to class or something?” PJ asked, tired of having her friend stir the pot.

  Claire laughed and grabbed the bio as she went back into the apartment. “Yep, and I’m taking this hottie with me.”

  “That’s mine!” PJ shouted before she could stop herself and was rewarded with Claire chuckling all the way to the bedroom, but she didn’t give it back. Which, PJ sadly admitted, was probably for the best.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

 
; After Claire left and PJ finished her blog post, she felt restless. She didn’t have classes on Fridays and wasn’t supposed to teach at the gym until later that evening. But she wasn’t able to just sit there staring at the fairy in the dewdrop that Seth had given her. It made organs ache with a need to be touched that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Instead, of sitting there berating herself, she chose to drive in the nasty L.A. traffic for thirty minutes to Justice’s gym. That was punishment enough. Her lime green and naturally rust colored Volkswagen Bug, that had earned the ridiculous nickname the Caterpillar for its color, almost overheated, but that wasn’t anything new.

  It was only three o’clock when she got there, and she stopped to read the text she had gotten.

  UNKNOWN: You looked beautiful yesterday in your purple dress. That slimebag of an artist needs to be put out to pasture for attacking you. Hope your blog post makes his prospects burn up.

  It was the fifth text she’d gotten in as many weeks from unknown numbers. The first couple had been uplifting. Stuff like, I hope you have an amazing day. Or, Keep smiling that beautiful smile. She honestly had thought it was one of her friends or family trying to cheer her up after the whole Pratt disaster. This one was a little creepy. As if the person had been following her. She blocked the number and went into the gym.

  She forced her body along some of the toughest courses in order to banish images of Seth and the creepiness of the text from her brain. Almost an hour and a half later, she was deep in the rope circuit hanging from the rafters when Justice hollered to her.

  “S&M, Locke’s looking for you.”

  She ignored him and concentrated on finishing the course. When she jumped down, doing a forward roll into her final landing, Justice was waiting for her. He offered her a hand, and she took it, happy, sweaty and exhausted.

  Justice was twelve years older than her. He’d been twenty-five to her thirteen the year their parents were killed in a small plane crash outside Vancouver. Justice had been their parents’ high school mistake, and it had taken them a long time before they were ready to have another child. Once they’d started trying, they’d been unsuccessful for many years until she’d come along as a late blooming surprise.

  The courts had no issue handing guardianship of her to Justice as long as he had a way to support them. Justice was in SoCal and had just entered into UCLA’s sports medicine program, but he’d taken her in without a drop of hesitation even though it changed his life. Med school had gone by the wayside as he’d concentrated on putting food on the table.

  Justice was lean like PJ, but he had their dad’s height, at an easy six feet. He had her same brown hair that tended toward red if they were in the sun too much, and her same hazel eyes that stayed more green-blue than brown. People often commented how much they looked alike. It made her happy because it felt as if she actually belonged somewhere to someone.

  Justice hugged her and then pushed her away, eyeing her up and down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why?” But she couldn’t meet his eyes because he knew her too well. That’s the thing about older brothers who basically raise you. They tend to know too much about you.

  “Don’t give me that bull. You’re never here putting yourself through the rope course this early unless you’re upset.”

  PJ didn’t know what to say. She really wasn’t upset as much as restless.

  “Locke says that dipshit artist of his assaulted you last night,” Justice said with arms crossed. “Do I need to bring the boys over and pound some manners into the schmuck?”

  PJ sighed. She should have known Locke would say something to Justice. He was Justice’s best friend after all. They’d been friends since their own college days. For the almost ten years since she’d been with Justice, Locke had been there just as much. They’d all shared a house together during her high school years.

  So, it was natural that Locke had taken it personally when she’d told him what had happened with Seth. And maybe she’d used the word assaulted because she was ticked off at the Neanderthal artist, and she was certain that that was why he’d forced Seth to meet her and apologize that morning. It certainly wasn’t because he was worried about the blog post she’d written.

  PJ sighed again. “He didn’t assault me.”

  “That’s what you told Locke.”

  “I was really angry.”

  Justice frowned, his usually happy and easygoing manner leaving him. “So, you lied?”

  “No,” PJ said as she rubbed a towel over her sweaty face, trying to get her bearings. “He did kiss me.”

  Justice let out a big air of something close to relief. “Shit, S&M. That’s all? Did you stomp his navicular like I taught you?”

  “Nah, I just pushed his manubrium with my metacarpals, and he let up.” She smiled and tried to smack him with her towel. Their old habit of naming bones went back to his sports medicine days and her struggle with Biology 101.

  He grabbed the towel, and they proceeded to struggle over it until she’d wrapped it around his wrist and twisted his fingers back. He grimaced and let go.

  “I should know better than worry about you. You’d beat the crap out of anyone who thought twice about attacking you.”

  And at the time, she’d believed him.

  They headed toward the locker rooms. “What did Locke want?” PJ asked belatedly.

  “Said something about you agreeing to see the guy’s studio and that he’d called and asked where you were at?”

  That stopped PJ in her tracks.

  “What?” Justice asked.

  “I only agreed to that a few hours ago. And I told him I couldn’t do it today.”

  Justice grinned widely. “Hmm. Sounds like someone’s got it bad for my little S&M.”

  “Puhlease. I don’t need to hear this from you too.”

  “What? Claire giving you a hard time about him?”

  “Ever since she saw the picture of him on his bio.”

  “So?”

  “So, what?” PJ asked as she looked back at her brother from the edge of the women’s locker room.

  “You going to go see him?”

  “Not today.”

  Justice continued to stare at her.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Just getting a read on how head over the heels you are for this guy.”

  “Ugh! I’m totally not anything over this guy. He’s a total manwhore, egotistical artist type who thinks his shit doesn’t stink and that any female should automatically drop her panties when he raises his pinky.”

  “So, you really like him, huh?” he continued, grinning at her.

  She threw her towel at him and stormed into the locker room to shower.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  It was eight o’clock that night by the time PJ wrapped up her last Little Heroes training, grabbed her gear, and headed for the front office. Justice was behind the counter with his wife, Liv. Liv’s tall, athletic frame looked as if it was ready to burst due to the large baby bump she’d grown. It was their first baby, and they were both over the moon excited.

  PJ smiled happily at the sight of them. Justice had his arms wrapped around her, hands on her belly, chin resting on her shoulder where her dark hair teased his face. He was going to be a great dad. He’d already been a great one to PJ.

  “Peej!” Liv called out a happy greeting.

  “Hey sis!” PJ went around the counter to hug her. “How’s the baby bun?”

  “Still cookin’,” Liv said with a tired smile. Then her eyes lit up. “So tell me about this smokin’ artist you’re in love with.”

  “Ugh!” PJ pounded her fist against Justice’s shoulder. “I am so not in love! I barely met the jerk.”

  “So how was the kiss?”

  “Does no one respect anyone’s privacy anymore?”

  “Well, now, when have we ever respected your privacy?” Locke said, coming in from the side room.


  “What happened to the old Locke who told me I could tell him anything even if it was something I didn’t want my brother to know?”

  “I lied,” Locke said with a shrug. “You know I told him everything, right?”

  “No!” PJ declared, mouth agape.

  “It was hard being dad and brother,” Justice said with a weak smile that made PJ want to run because if Locke had told him everything, it was amazing that Justice could even look her in the eye.

  “I’m leaving now,” PJ said, heading for the door. “You all can continue to talk about me after I’ve left, as it seems you’ve been doing it for years!”

  “Wait! For the love of all that is holy, please call Seth back before I have to force you in the car and drive you there myself,” Locke hollered with exasperation.

  This stopped her. She looked back at him as he pushed his hand through his thick hair that had turned gray in spite of his being in his mid-thirties.

  “He’s called again?” she asked.

  “Only about five times since four o’clock.”

  “Oooooh. PJ has a boyfriend, PJ has a boyfriend,” Justice sang with a goofy smile.

  “I want details. Hard details,” Liv said, “when these thugs aren’t around. I have to live vicariously through someone.”

  “Damn woman, you know how to break a man’s heart,” Justice said. But he was already kissing Liv’s neck, and she was already swooning at the knees.

  “I’m outta here,” PJ said, opening the door to be hit with the cool spring air.

  She heard Locke call out, “Call him tonight, please, before I have to shoot him or me or both of…”

  The door muffled the rest of his phrase as she headed to her beat up Bug, praying it would start. It did, with its typical cough and huff, and she headed back to the apartment in as much traffic as she’d arrived in. She hardly remembered the drive though. Instead, she was thinking about blue eyes and demanding lips and wondering why in the world Seth Carmen had called asking about her so many times in just a few hours.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  She knew now, months later, why he’d called so much. Seth couldn’t help himself. Once he wanted something, he wouldn’t let go. It was what had tempted her and driven her away at the same time. It was why he couldn’t just let her be even though that’s what she said she needed. But she also knew he was trying. Like he said, he’d at least written instead of showing up on her doorstep in New York City. For Seth, that was a huge step.