Anything to chase the darkness away.
And as much as people saw me with alcohol — I rarely drank it, if ever.
Bad memories and alcohol never mixed. Hell, a bad life and alcohol didn’t mix, because alcohol was a poison, it lowered your inhibitions and caused you to remember, and my main goal in life — was to forget.
Fallon
I wasn’t entirely sure what a nervous breakdown looked like, but I did know crazy, and Zane fit the bill. Who just walked into some stranger’s house, a house that said stranger is letting you stay in and starts pulling off their clothes?
And he didn’t have any sort of… underthings.
I mentally shook my fist up at my grandma in heaven. She was the reason I used weird language. Always calling bras “braziers” and underwear “underthings”, as if the word panty was too brazen to say out loud.
It literally took me five trips to the Victoria’s Secret in Portland to finally stutter out the word “bra.” And even then, I was so exhausted and embarrassed afterward that Mags was afraid I was going to pass out.
Then again, she was probably hoping I would so she could call in some hot paramedics. She was good at that, using my social awkwardness to further her dating calendar.
I shoved my glasses aside to rub my burning eyes then put them back on. It was no use; the glasses were so old that they were probably hindering my sight more than helping it.
Maybe that was a good thing.
I could make out Zane’s smile, but only enough to know he was smiling, I couldn’t see any dimples, and I refused to believe he didn’t have something caught in his teeth. In fact, by the time he’d come back with his sweats and was offering his whole spiel on why I should help him, I’d decided to give him a lazy eye, no teeth, and an unfortunate amount of boils on his person.
Like ten.
Covering the entirety of his face.
Gout. Also another winner.
So really, there was no need for me to stutter.
“Why do you keep rubbing your eyes?” Zane asked getting dangerously close to my personal space. It was as if he wasn’t aware that human beings had boundaries, little comfortable safe zones that he was constantly poking with his nearness.
I scooted back against the couch and sighed. “My glasses were beyond repair from yesterday, so I’m wearing my old ones.”
“Those are yours?” He sounded amused.
“What? Yes. Why?”
“They look like something I’d find at a retirement home.”
I sighed.
“In a donation box,” he added.
“They’re tortoiseshell,” I said defensively. “Some might say they’re… vintage.”
Zane coughed out a laugh. “Some being one. You. They aren’t vintage, they’re hideous. I feel itchy just looking at them.”
I tried not to get offended. Tried and failed as I slumped a little further into the couch. Why did I get in the truck again? Oh, right, because my best friend hates me, and I have a cat to mourn. “The clock is ticking.”
“Why aren’t you in college?”
Sighing, I grabbed a pillow and covered my body protectively, I might be partially blind, but even I could see his bare chest just glistening in my direction. “My financial aid didn’t come through, so I have to wait until the spring.”
“That sucks.”
“Yup.”
“So you’re stuck here… with me.”
“Kidnapped, but yes.”
He leaned forward; I could feel the heat from his body. “Can’t kidnap the willing, Fallon.”
“You talk circles around me. Even if I had protested, you would have somehow convinced me the only way to save the earth would be to get in the truck.”
He released a throaty chuckle. “Gotta admit, I’ve never actually had to go that far. Girls usually just hop on without invitation.”
I hated that he was embarrassing me, making me turn red. Very funny, make fun of the stuttering girl with glasses who only had sexual experience with two guys, one of which was her lab partner who now bats for the other team. I cringed.
“What’s that look?”
“What?”
“That one.” He touched my face with his fingers.
I flinched at the contact and retreated deeper against the sofa cushions, “You can’t just go around touching people and things.”
“Yes, I can.” He touched me again. “See? It’s really easy.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“I’ve been told worse.”
I shifted away from his massive presence, “You said you were desperate, so how is this conversation supposed to help?”
“It’s making me feel better.”
“Making fun of me is making you feel better?”
“When did I make fun of you?”
Sighing, I stared down at the fuzzy pillow. “Never mind. So this song, what does it need to be about?”
“What are all songs about?” He sounded bitter. “Love and shit.”
I tensed a bit at his grating tone. Having only spent a short time with him, it was alarming how I could tell by just one tiny inflection of his voice that he was upset. No… not upset, angry. “So maybe you should just focus on the love part.”
“Not the shit?” He gasped. “Really? Is that what girls want? And to think all this time I had it wrong.”
“Grandma always said that love was inexplicable, that it was the type of feeling you couldn’t express with mere words. Love transcends even the most beautiful of poems and words.”
Zane was quiet. Too quiet. Like I’d just bored him so much in the past ten seconds that he’d taken his own life or something quiet.
“Does she also say ‘life is like a box of chocolates’?”
Trying not to be offended, I stood. “Alright, I’m just going to go.”
A warm hand gripped my wrist. “But your time isn’t up.”
I jerked away. “I don’t even know you.” I stumbled away from him and meandered toward the door just as a few strings of music floated into the air, followed by the smoothest most jaw-dropping voice I’d ever heard in real life.
“When you can’t explain what makes you hurt — what makes you think you can explain what makes you burn? Because that’s how I feel when I look at you…”
I reached for the door, desperate to leave, because staying meant I would be vulnerable, and who was I kidding? He was a celebrity. I might as well be a puppy from the pound that he’d decided to adopt in order to make himself feel better.
Me helping him was about him.
Which seemed to be a trend.
“I watch you go… I want to follow, pride drives a man insane, like your touch or when I kiss you in the rain.”
A mental battle occurred in that moment. Did I embrace the fact that when I was eighty, I’d be able to tell all my cats about the moment that Zane “Saint” Andrews used me, the girl with the weird stutter and tortoiseshell glasses, as a muse? Or do I run, knowing that, his magnetism would only end up hurting me in the end?
My decision to leave should have been easy.
It wasn’t.
And when I heard footsteps behind me, I hung my head in irritation. Zane’s hands went to my shoulders as he very slowly turned me to face him.
“Leaving so soon? We’re just getting started.”
“I help you. Then we shake hands, and I go. Take it or leave it.”
“What about me makes you want to run, Fallon?”
Everything.
“I hate running.” I sidestepped him, making sure to brush off his physical advances, and found a spot on the couch without running into the coffee table. “I like the second part. I think you need to slow down though, make it more romantic.”
“Like this?” He sang again, this time, the song was slower, more methodical. The low notes spoke of pain, not love, not that I was a musical prodigy or anything, but something about the song was just… off.
Like he was trying to sing ab
out love.
And instead was singing about loss.
“Your face.” Zane stopped singing. The couch dipped as he came over and sat, then braced his hand over the back. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon. It’s a bad look.”
“I…” I didn’t want to offend him. Then again, he’d been doing nothing but offend me since we’d met. “Okay, d-don’t take this p-personal.”
“Stop being nervous.”
“E-easier said than done.” I regained control of my thoughts and tried not to force the words. Geez, I’d been on a roll too! “It just, i-it s-s-seems…”
“Fallon.” Zane laid his hand on my arm. “I won’t get mad. I swear.”
I exhaled and counted silently to myself then took a deep breath. “It’s sad. You’re singing about love, and it makes me want to cry.”
“Love is sad.” He said in a gravelly voice.
“Love isn’t sad. I mean, not all love.”
Even though I could barely make out his face since my eyes were straining too much with the large glasses, I could tell he was pissed. He wasn’t smiling, and Zane was always smiling.
With a curse, he got up from the couch. He returned with an entire bag of marshmallows and started stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in years.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Another marshmallow found its way into his mouth. He chewed and then clicked his tongue. “So, got a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
He stopped chewing. “Seriously?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“That you got a boyfriend between today and yesterday, yes. It is.”
“I could have had one yesterday.”
“You wouldn’t have been so eager to stick your tongue down my throat had you had someone waiting on the side.” He offered me a marshmallow, and this time, I took it. At least it gave me something to do with my hands and my mouth.
“Maybe I fell in love, maybe I’ve been pining over someone from high school for the past four years, and he just now finally noticed me and declared we were going to get married.” Yeah, I’d probably just taken it too far.
“What does your grandma say about getting married at nineteen?”
“She’s dead.”
He froze, marshmallow in mid-air. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Is there a difference?”
I shrugged and chewed off another piece of the marshmallow while Zane watched.
Finally, I huffed out, “What now?”
“You’re eating it wrong.”
“There’s a wrong way to eat a marshmallow?”
He nodded.
“And let me guess, I’m doing it?”
Another nod.
“Why don’t we focus on your song?”
“The way you’re eating makes me itch, and not in a good way, not in an ‘oh, baby right there way,’ but in a way that makes me concerned I’m going to develop a rash solely based on stress and the way you’re taking small bites of a food that by all means should be eaten whole.”
My stomach recoiled. “Whole?”
“Watch.” He popped one in his mouth and lifted up his hands. “Easy.”
“I can’t believe we’re having an argument over marshmallows.”
“Fallon…” Zane leaned in, his breath caressing my face. “Is this our first lovers’ quarrel?”
I pressed my hand against his face and shoved him out of the way, he laughed, while I tried to tell my body to calm down, hoping like hell he couldn’t tell how deeply he was affecting me.
“There.” I popped the marshmallow into my mouth and chewed, nearly choking since he’d gotten the large campfire ones. Once I swallowed a bit, I faced him. “Now, let’s work on your love song because I have things to do.”
“Name one.”
Why hadn’t I been blessed with the ability to lie?
“I…” Mags was going to kill me. “I have a date.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
“What? Is that so hard to believe?”
He eyed me up and down, a smile curving around his lips. “Yes and no.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or just curious. His smile was wide. He stood, grabbed his guitar again, and sighed. “Maybe I just need some inspiration.”
Wide-eyed panic was my only response.
Naturally, it made him laugh. “Not that kind.”
He turned on the TV.
And that was how I found myself watching How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, with one of the hottest stars on the planet.
With a bowl of marshmallows separating our thighs.
When the movie was over, so was my time. I quickly stood and bolted for the door. It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t enjoy my time with him, but it was a mirage, completely fabricated in order to help him and throw me off my rocker.
Oh, Grandma. Ugh.
“This time tomorrow?” Zane called.
“Bye!” I called back.
“How are you getting home?” He asked from behind me.
I froze, cursing myself. “I um, was going to call a cab.”
“Bullshit.” He grabbed a hat, not a shirt, but a hat, and then pulled out his keys. “I’ll drive you.”
“That’s really not—”
“—necessary?” He shrugged. “It is. After all, you inspired me today. Granted, it didn’t exactly go as planned, but it worked out, better.” His smile grew. “Different, but good, you know?”
Curiosity was basically pumping off my body in waves. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup.”
“How’s that?” I asked as nonchalant as I could.
He shrugged. “You were my friend.”
“We spent just as much time insulting each other as we did breathing.”
“You kept track?” Disappointment colored his voice. “And yes, a friend. Which I’ll have you know, is also a type of love, brotherly love. But since you’re a chick, I’ll just call you my sister.”
God hated me.
That was what I took from this entire conversation with Zane. That somehow, I’d done something wrong, and God was pouring out His wrath. Because not only was I stuck with one of the hottest guys in the world — but he’d just referred to me as his sister. How do you even recover from that? It’s not even close to the friend zone!
“Great,” I managed to choke out.
“Which means I probably shouldn’t kiss you anymore. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“So where to?”
I gave him directions to my parents’ house on the other side of town. It was nice enough, a middle-class two-story beach house with blue and white paint that had seen better days.
“Cool,” he said as we pulled up in front. Then he nodded and turned off the truck.
“Whoa.” I held out my hand. “What are you doing?”
“Meeting your parents.”
“The hell you are!”
“Aw, did you just curse?” He chuckled darkly. “And why not? We’re practically family now.”
“How did this happen?” I asked the universe. “This is why you don’t lie about dead cats!”
“Quick, what’s his name?”
“Otto!” I blurted while Zane laughed harder. “And you aren’t meeting my parents!”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“NO!” Frustration welled up inside me. “You can’t just march into strangers’ lives and force them to be friends with you. It’s not fair.”
“Life is hardly fair.”
I let out a pitiful groan. “Zane, no more joking, no more laughter. Why? Why are you doing this? I’m sure you have plenty of people to bother, a family to annoy.” I drew a breath. “A girlfriend to kiss.”
His face sobered or what I saw of it. And suddenly he was putting his seatbelt back on, as if I was the one rejecting him, which was crazy!
“Yeah.” He licked his lips and glanced out the window. “Have a
good night, Fallon.”
Guilt stabbed me square in the chest.
He looked like a kicked puppy.
And I was more dog girl than cat anyway, which was how I found myself reaching for his hand and saying, “Fine. Come inside. But ten minutes, and only ten minutes.”
He grinned wide. “Let’s set a timer shall we?”
Zane
Don’t ask me why I did it. I’d probably lie to you just like I was lying to myself. I didn’t want to go back to the house.
It was lonely.
And I honestly hated being there when it was empty. Typically, I at least had one person stumbling around, but now that Linc was shacking up with Dani I didn’t really have anyone.
She loved helping him on set.
Amongst other things.
And Jay was busting his ass making sure they all stayed on schedule for production.
I had a date with a pizza carton.
That was my future.
Half was loneliness, the other half was curiosity, what type of family did this odd girl come from? My little four eyes. She probably thought I was insulting her, when really, it was the exact opposite, almost like the type of name-calling you do on the playground, where rocks are reserved for the cute girls and all that shit.
“Don’t ask questions!” Fallon smacked my arm as though we’d known each other for years. I liked it. Damn it. “And just, when my dad starts talking about hunting, nod your head and don’t make eye contact with the deer.”
“The deer?” I asked just as she opened the door and nearly collided with both of her parents. They had frozen smiles on their faces.
Her dad was the first to stretch out his hand. His grip was firm, his smile friendly. And from his camo pants to his dark brown shirt, and even up to his tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses, he just looked… nice.
“Fallon! Who’s this?” Still smiling, her dad released my hand then patted me so hard on the back that I nearly choked on my tongue. “Good strong man! Say, do you hunt?”
“I’ve never tried it,” I answered honestly while he steered me away from Fallon and her mom.
Her mom seemed sweet, quiet but sweet. She was wearing an apron with a bear on it and had flour all over her face.
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