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

by LJ Evans

  In the past I would have hated him for that, but instead I found myself teasing back. “Maybe you’d let the soft-ass nerd from the valley date your sister.”

  “Not ever. That’s worse than being from the Bronx.”

  I chuckled, and we hung up.

  I made my way into my studio and stared at the chair with the purple satin. It wasn’t right yet. I’d taken the legs off earlier so that I could etch it with grooves. Like the grooves in your heart that I’d come to see and understand over the last twenty-four hours. At that moment, I wanted people to see that it wasn’t broken. For you to see that you weren’t broken. That you were just scarred a little, like most people who’ve lived at all. Later…well, I realized we were both broken but that it didn’t matter. That it would make us into something unique and beautiful.

  I took the legs to my bench where I worked for several hours trying to figure out the notches that would express exactly what I wanted. Most of the time, art came easy to me. But for some reason, I was struggling more than usual.

  The fading sun changed the light in my studio and brought me back to the real world. I’d forgotten my phone out in the kitchen. My mind leapt immediately to you. To your fear that I would walk away after we’d made love and you’d gone home.

  I threw the chair leg down and went for my phone. But there was no text from you. You’d said you’d text when you were back at the apartment. My brain went to crazy places. Had you had an accident in that piece of crap car? Had your family and friends talked sense into you? Had you decided that you didn’t need me like I already needed you?

  I cussed at myself for being that insecure. I told myself that I wasn’t insecure. That I just needed you like I hadn’t ever needed anything in my life. Like Coke needed bubbles, I felt flat and empty without you.

  Fucking wuss. I heard my dad’s voice in my head.

  I grabbed a bowl of leftovers, heated them up on the stove because I hate the microwave, and then sat on the couch where we’d been tucked up together twenty-four hours before.

  I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, my phone was ringing.

  “Bella,” I greeted. My voice was deep with emotion that I was sure you could hear and rough from sleep.

  You hesitated at my greeting. “Sorry it took me so long to call. Justice and Liv needed some stuff, so I ran out to get it for them. And then when I got back to the apartment, all hell was breaking loose with our roommates, and on top of that, Claire gave me the third degree.”

  Relief flooded me. At least you hadn’t been discouraged from contacting me again.

  “Can I come see you?”

  It took you way longer to respond than I was comfortable with. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a lot to do tonight.”

  “You have to eat. Let me come take you to dinner?”

  You were quiet again. “We just spent more than twenty-four hours straight together. Don’t you think we need a little space?”

  “No.”

  “Are you always like this with the people you date?”

  “No.”

  “You’re so exasperating sometimes.” I knew by then that your sigh was accompanied by a little crinkle in your forehead right between your eyes. I wanted to smooth it out with my finger and then kiss it.

  “Just dinner,” I said, trying hard to keep the begging out of my voice and still not make it a demand. I wanted to demand. I wanted to tell you that I was going to drive over and throw you in the car whether you liked it or not, but somehow, now that you’d moved out of my world and back into your own, I knew I couldn’t push you like that.

  “Tomorrow,” you said quietly.

  “No.”

  “It’ll have to do, Seth. Really. I have a ton to get done. I just need to keep my head on straight for a few hours.”

  That made my lips twitch. “You can’t keep your head on straight around me?”

  “You know I can’t,” you said. I knew there was a sparkle in your eyes that would make me growl and pull you to me if we were together. I sighed. Maybe you were right. I needed to get my head on straight too. I needed to work on the pieces that were flying through my mind like a movie montage.

  “Fine. Tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to be at the gym from one until seven.”

  “Bella…” I rumbled impatiently.

  You just laughed at me. “We can do lunch before or if you don’t mind eating late, I can come by after I’m done.”

  “I’ll pick you up at the gym.”

  “Fine. But not before seven, Seth,” you said, trying to put on your professional tone that just made me long to caress it away.

  “Seven. At the gym.”

  “Okay.” There was a long pause, as if you were trying to figure out how to say goodbye to me.

  “Goodnight, Bella. Sweet dreams,” I said.

  “You too. See you tomorrow.”

  And you were gone.

  I rubbed my hand over my face and took the phone with me back into my studio. I grabbed pieces from all over and threw them into a pile in the middle before I reverently moved the chair with the silk scarf to the side. I wasn’t done with it yet, not by a long shot, but I needed to get the other images in my head out.

  I turned to the hodgepodge of pieces I’d thrown in the middle. I could see a shadow box full of the images that I had flashing through my mind from my time with you. I wanted to put the desire and longing and desperation on display in the same way that I felt my heart was. I looked to the corner and the silken scarf more than once. I knew then that you were going to be the inspiration for many more pieces before I was done. And it’s true, you are still demanding pieces out of me. Some broken. Some caged. Some free. I’m hoping you’ll see them someday. Someday sooner than later. I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t ask you to come home. That I wouldn’t beg for you to be here. I’ll try not to.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  The phone ringing on my bedside table woke me from a deep sleep. It had been very late—or very early depending on your take—when I’d crawled into my sheets that still held the bubblegum scent of you. I’d buried my head into the pillow you’d used, feeling decidedly unlike myself in the process. Fuckin’ wuss.

  I grabbed the phone and saw Locke’s name flashing across the screen. “What?”

  “I wanted to touch base again on the waterfall.” Locke was accustomed to my bark and was frequently immune to it. Not many people in my life have been.

  “I don’t have an answer for you yet.”

  “Damn it, Seth. We’re talking a million dollars.”

  “And you know that I don’t give a rat’s ass about the money.”

  “Have you thought that maybe I do? That maybe I have a business and a life to support?”

  “You aren’t married. Don’t have a girlfriend. You practically live at the gallery; so, no, I haven’t really considered it.”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes. Then Locke changed the subject, “PJ said you were working on a new piece.”

  “Several, in fact.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s been an inspiring weekend.”

  Locke sighed. “God, I want to hate you.”

  “You can’t have her.”

  “Please. I’ve already told you. She’s like a kid sister. You give me the willies even saying it. I just want to hate you for what you’re going to do to her in the end, but if you’re turning out pieces like that, I know it’s a good thing.”

  “Hanging up now.”

  “Shoot me some pictures of what you are working on.”

  “Will do.”

  I took another run after hanging up with Locke, worked for a couple more hours in the studio, ate lunch on the porch while Becca cleaned the house, and then came in to shower before picking you up at the gym.

  Becca, as you
know, is well past the time of retiring, but she has kept me as a client. She looks like a mother should with her graying black hair and wrinkled brown eyes. She’d always taken a strong interest in me for some reason.

  I realized then that I’d never really let anyone mother me the way Becca did. Not even my abuela. Of course, I’d been full of anger, and alcohol, and later, regret the majority of the time with my grandparents. Somehow, they’d seen through my raging box of skin and bones in order to give me a view of my future after my mother died.

  Becca’s been mothering me a lot since you’ve been gone. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll go off the rails. I don’t know. Believe me, I’ve been attending meetings more than ever because the temptation is there.

  I didn’t write that to make you feel guilty. This isn’t your issue. It’s mine. It’ll always be mine. Not a battle that you can cause or fight.

  That day, Becca was shaking her head at me when I entered from the deck.

  “What?” I groused at her.

  She waved a pair of your panties at me. I honestly don’t have a clue where she found them. I wouldn’t have recognized them if I’d had to identify them in a police line-up, I’d had you out of your panties before registering them every time.

  I took them from Becca’s hand with a slow smile.

  “You’ve been very naughty,” she admonished, but she was saying it with her own pleased smile.

  I shoved the panties into my back pocket.

  “Tell me about her,” Becca said as she made her way into the kitchen to pour us each a glass of sweet tea like she always did before she left.

  I just sat at the counter in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to speak about you aloud in case you became a figment of my imagination and melted away into nothingness. The only reason I talked to Locke about you was because he didn’t give me a choice.

  “She must be special. You never bring girls to the house,” Becca continued.

  I shrugged.

  “The poor thing doesn’t stand a chance against you.” Becca patted my cheek.

  “I hope not,” I told her. I knew you had already melted at much more than my smile, but would it last?

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “Through Locke. He’s all over my ass about it,” I told her.

  “Locke wants to see you happy as much as I do.”

  “Not that happy apparently.”

  Becca laughed. “What? Is it his ex or something?”

  “No, more like a sister.”

  “Well, honey, I can see why he wouldn’t want you to hook up with a sister unless you were serious.”

  I looked at Becca with grave eyes. “I think it is.”

  She smiled at me with a tenderness that would have repelled my younger self, but instead felt almost like relief. Did you know how serious we already were? Did you feel it in your soul, like I did, that it was meant to be?

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  That first night I picked you up at Freestorm triggered everything that exploded on us later. That little weasel… I wish I had known more when I first met him.

  It was seven on the dot when I walked through the gym doors. You didn’t know that I had gotten there early and driven around the block several times before parking and entering just as my iPhone went from six-fifty-nine to seven o’clock. Wuss.

  You were behind the counter in a Freestorm t-shirt that clung to your little, but lithe, frame. You had your tyrant of curls pulled back in a ponytail that I immediately wanted to rip out. Instead, I leaned over the counter to draw your face toward mine. At first, I just inhaled your scent and looked into your beautiful blue-gray eyes, but then I kissed you as if you’d been gone a month. It felt that way. We’d only been apart as long as we’d been together but it felt like much, much longer.

  You kissed me back with fervor, and I was tempted to pull you across the counter, but you pulled back as kid laughter filled the office.

  A young girl was giggling up at us. She was followed by the weasel—excuse me, the kid in his twenties who had a week’s worth of scruff on his chin that would have taken me a half a day to grow. The kid’s eyes narrowed as he took me in. You realize how ridiculous this was?

  “PJ. You okay?” The kid’s voice made me want to bust something because it was so obvious the twerp had a thing for you. I know you say you didn’t know, but Bella, it was so apparent. My reaction to him was justified… you know it was.

  “Fine. Michael, this is Seth. Seth, Michael.” You waved a hand between us.

  I crossed my arms across my chest and widened my stance. Sorry. It’s instinctive. Male posturing. It just happens as soon as our testosterone-invaded blood cells see any threat, however weak, on the horizon. I should have trusted those instincts more, but I was still trying not to scare you away.

  The kid eyed me, taking his own protective stance. If you could call it that.

  “I’m Chloe,” the little girl said up at me with a pretty smile. The girl had some muscle on her for someone so little. Like you did. I was easily impressed by what you seemed to accomplish at Freestorm.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said with a nod. But I wouldn’t talk to the stupid kid who still thought he could take me on if I caused any problems.

  The door opened with a jingle of bells, and a haggard woman in her thirties came rushing in.

  “So sorry. I know I’m late. Traffic. It’s always traffic. You ready, Chlo?”

  “Mom! You want to see me swing from the top of the rope ladder over to the climbing wall? I finally did it!” Chloe said, all bubbles of excitement.

  “Not now, honey. We still have to pick up your brother and get dinner and there’s homework to be done.” The mom looked like she was going to burst with the anxiety of it all.

  “See you later, Chloe,” you said as the little girl was hauled out the door by the frantic mom. L.A. life at its best. Really just modern life.

  The stupid kid hadn’t taken off yet. He was waiting. You grabbed your duffle and came around the counter. I took the bag from you. You started to protest, but I just swung it onto my shoulder and grabbed your hand.

  “You ready?” I said with a growl that wasn’t directed at you.

  “Yep. Michael, you’ve got Justice’s noon class tomorrow, right?”

  Michael nodded but couldn’t take his eyes off our hands joined together. He had his own bag at his feet that he picked up as we made our way out the door. You set the alarm and locked up as we left. The twerp still hung around as if he thought he could somehow stop us. He eyed me again, and his eyes dropped to my hand as it joined with yours once more.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” the kid said with disappointment.

  You were so oblivious to it, you just smiled and waved as I led you to my car. I tucked you into the passenger seat before making my way over to the driver’s side. Stupid was glowering at me still. I may have given him a one-fingered wave over the top of the car before getting in and driving out of the lot. Maybe if you’d been with someone else instead of me, the asshole, things would never have escalated like they did.

  “There’s a really good vegetarian place down the street,” you suggested.

  “Yeah? Maybe we’ll try that tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans,” I told you, and when I looked over at you in the dim light from the dashboard, I saw you flush at the thought of what our plans might be. It made me want to pull you over into my lap and make love to you, but I didn’t.

  “What plans?” you asked breathlessly. I grabbed your hand and rubbed my finger along the palm. I felt you tremble. I couldn’t resist. I brought your hand up, settling a kiss there, and I felt the shiver that went all the way through you. It made me grin, knowing that I could do that to you. Stupid kid forgotten.

  “Not that. Not tonight,” I told you because I knew your mind had gone to tangled sheets and skin on skin.

  What you didn’t know was that I’d promised myself that I was
going to be a perfect gentleman that night. I’d brought a picnic basket that Becca had helped me put together. We were going to drive out to the pier and have a picnic watching the moon wake up over the ocean.

  It wasn’t near my house. I’d purposefully picked somewhere closer to the gym so that I wouldn’t be in the car for long without being able to really touch you. But I also wasn’t going to let it be about sex. I needed you to know that I wanted you for more than sex.

  When we pulled up to the pier, I opened your door, helped you out, and grabbed the basket and a blanket from the trunk.

  “A picnic?” you said in surprise. But I didn’t know if your tone held laughter or disappointment.

  “Yep. Out in the open. Where I won’t be able to do anything more than kiss you.”

  “Oh,” you said, and this time there was a furrow across your brow that told me you were overthinking it.

  I pulled you to me, kissed the furrow, and then proceeded down the side of your face, down near your ear, and back over to your mouth which I teased with my teeth. “Believe me, Bella, I want to do more, but I’m not going to tonight. Tonight, I’m going to be on my best behavior.”

  I couldn’t keep the desire out of my voice. God. I really could have just walked down off the path to the beach and pulled you under the dock and…

  Instead, I got my head on straight and drew you down the wooden planks. I let go of your hand long enough to set up the blanket, which you quickly helped with, until we were both sitting on the cotton softness with the picnic basket between us as if neither of us could trust ourselves to be that close to each other.

  “How’s the baby?” I asked. I poured you a glass of champagne and me a glass of sparkling cider, then took out the tray of sushi and cold Pad Thai.

  “He’s so adorable.” Your face broke into a smile. I remember thinking how much I loved that smile. I was spellbound by that smile. Spellbound by everything you did. Your furrow, your blush, your strength, your laugh….

  I barely heard you as you continued, “Liv is doing really well. They got to go home today. I can tell they are both already itching to be back at the gym, but the baby can’t be around all those strangers for a couple of weeks. Not without more shots.”