Pieces (The Breakaway #2)

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

  “Wait,” she said, reaching out her hand before Finn turned to leave. “I think I want something else.”

  His half-smile widened as he looked down at her hand receding into her lap. “Oh?”

  She could do this. She could. She was strong now, like Stacy was always telling her. She could keep everything in line.

  “It’s my birthday today.”

  Finn’s smile widened even more, a grin deepening his dimple. With a nod, he urged her to go on.

  She swallowed. “And I’m going to get chocolate cake instead of almond cake ... and I ... I’ll take you up on your offer.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “Drinks are fine, if that’s what you want to do, but don’t go getting any ideas I want to date you or anything, because I already have a boyfriend. This is just as friends, like you said before.”

  His smile fell, but not so far as to make him appear dejected. Perhaps a little shocked.

  “A boyfriend? Have you had a boyfriend the whole time I’ve known you?”

  He didn’t sound upset. He shouldn’t, she realized. She could tell he wasn’t implying it was wrong for her not to have told him. He was simply surprised. “Yes, I have,” she said, picking at a fingernail, “but he doesn’t live here, and I never get to see him, so it’s complicated.”

  That was putting it lightly.

  “I see.”

  She knew he didn’t really see, but who cared?

  “So, tonight, then?” she asked. “Are you free?”

  “I am.” He glanced at his watch. “How about nine? I’ll pick you up.”

  This was it. She was doing something, and it didn’t involve Jesse. He would want her to be happy and make friends.

  “That sounds great.” Ripping a piece of paper from her sketchpad, she wrote down her address and phone number and handed it to him.

  SHE TRIED on eight different outfits before deciding on a boring pair of jeans and a tight black shirt with a scoop neck. It was a safe outfit. It didn’t scream ‘sleep with me!’ She hoped it whispered ‘hey, let’s hang out.’

  She looked at herself in the mirror and remembered the bedroom in the house, the smell of Evelyn’s rain-scented fabric softener on the sheets. She remembered curling up next to Jesse in the evenings. He had been sleeping with her for a few nights before he decided to help her escape. Being with him in her room was her fondest memory. She knew it sounded terrible when she admitted to Stacy, “I loved sleeping with my kidnapper. I know that makes me sound like a freak. Maybe I am a freak.” But Stacy hadn’t treated her like a freak. She had said she understood the whole falling in love thing and that what had happened to her over the course of a year justified her decisions at the time. Naomi wasn’t sure if that was true or if Stacy said crazy stuff like that to get her to talk.

  “Are you going out?”

  Becca stood in the doorway, her jaw dropping open as she watched Naomi fasten half her hair up with some bobby pins.

  “Yes, but it’s not a date.”

  “But you never go out. Ever.”

  “Yeah, well, I am now.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, you look hot. Does he know it’s ‘not a date’?” She made air quotes with her fingers to emphasize Naomi’s own words.

  “I don’t look hot.” She turned sideways, checking out her profile. Maybe her jeans were a little form-fitting, sexy and tight over her butt and thighs. And her shirt hugged her too, but what else was she supposed to wear? Sweat pants and an extra-large T-shirt?

  “Do I?” she asked. “Really?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Well, crap. He’s just a guy—a friend. We’re hanging out. It’s my birthday.”

  Becca clapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot it was your birthday! I’m sorry.” She had pale skin and short black hair Naomi was sure she dyed. Her lips were deep red. She was going to make an intimidating lawyer someday, like a day-walking vampire ready to take anyone down.

  “I didn’t expect you to remember. I found something to do tonight, so don’t worry about it.”

  “If you say so, but happy birthday, anyway.”

  “Thanks.”

  A knock on the door sent Becca into a frenzy. “Is that him? He’s coming to pick you up? That means it’s a date, I hope you know. What’s his name?”

  “Finn.”

  “Got it.” She spun around and raced downstairs, her footsteps pattering like a scurrying mouse.

  Looking at herself again, Naomi decided to stick with her outfit. Finn was waiting by the door when she walked down the stairs. He was wearing the same clothes as earlier. That was a good sign, but now she realized she shouldn’t have changed.

  “This is a nice place,” he said, looking around. “Like, super-nice.”

  Naomi shrugged. She had forgotten how lucky she was to have rich parents who paid for her to rent an entire house, and a nice one at that. Becca’s parents weren’t bad off, either. A lot of the time she forgot what lengths people would go to in order to get money so they could live comfortably. That was what her kidnappers had done. It had all been about money and comfort in the end.

  She thought about Jesse in a small cell with cinderblock walls. A hard bed. Crappy food. At least he would have time to read. He loved to read. But she had heard horror stories of prison and how awful inmates were to each other. And here she was, living in her fancy house, going to Harvard, and now heading out on a date with a guy she knew wanted to be more than friends. Her world seemed so shallow all of a sudden.

  “You ready to go?” Finn asked.

  She nodded. “Drinks, right?”

  “Yeah, there’s a great club downtown, if you’re okay with that.”

  Sure.

  “Have fun,” Becca said as Naomi grabbed her purse and gave her an angry glare.

  “Do not say date!” she whispered.

  Becca grinned, and Naomi turned her back and followed Finn out the door.

  MAYBE IT was a date, but Naomi decided it didn’t matter. She wanted to have fun for the first time in forever. Finn took her to a small nightclub that smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. For some reason it put her at ease, and she settled into a chair at a table near the bar. The music was loud but not annoying. Finn was across from her, and in the dim light he looked hotter than usual. His skin seemed darker, his hair messy in a way that made him appear more confident, somehow.

  She had to stop thinking of him as hot.

  “So, you’ve mentioned before you’re from California,” he said, leaning forward. “What part? I have some family out there.”

  “South of San Francisco.”

  “What city?”

  She pursed her lips together. She wasn’t giving him that information. She refused. The last time she had told someone her hometown, they had put two-and-two together and figured out she was “that Naomi girl who was kidnapped by jewelry thieves a few years ago.” It had been a nation-wide story during the trial. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about right now.

  “Nowhere special,” she muttered, and looked up as the bartender motioned to Finn their drinks were ready. He stood up to get them. Maybe this was a bad idea. If he found out she was the Naomi Jensen, the one who confessed to falling in love with her kidnapper, he would know exactly who her boyfriend was. He would think she was insane, and their friendship would be over.

  “And here is your first drink of the evening,” Finn said with a sly smile as he set her piña colada in front of her.

  “The first, huh?” She took a sip and closed her eyes. It was sweet and cold with a sharp tang that lingered after she swallowed. It had been a long time since she’d had alcohol—the last time had been with Brad over three years ago. He had always shoved beers in her hand to loosen her up. He had thought he was so cool, drinking underage. That very fact was what had kept her from drinking for so long. She didn’t want it to become a crutch.

  “Good?” Finn asked.

  “Yeah, but one is all I need tonight, thanks.” She sipped some mor
e, probably faster than she should, and remembered punching Brad in the face the first time she saw him after her escape. It had felt good, but it was far from a decent payback for all the crap and abuse he had put her through. At least now she would be able to spot an abusive relationship if she landed in one again. Finn didn’t seem like he would force her into anything. Maybe that was why he was so appealing. She liked someone in control, but they had to be tender about it and their intentions had to be on the right track. That was Jesse once he had decided to change. And, from what she could sense so far, maybe Finn too.

  “So?” Finn asked. “What city? Why’s it a big secret?”

  “No reason.” She looked behind her shoulder and nodded toward the crowd beyond the tables. “Do you want to ...?”

  His eyes lit up. “You sure that’s okay with your boyfriend?”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “You must think I’m the most boring person ever. I want to prove you wrong, that’s all.”

  “Then let’s go.” He stood and took her hand, pulling her from the chair and into the crowd. “You’re not boring—I’ve never thought you were boring,” he said loudly over the music as he watched her start to dance. People moved all around them, but everyone kept their space.

  Finn moved a little. He seemed to be waiting to feel her groove and how she wanted to dance. She felt her cheeks blush hot as she let the music pound into her. It had been a long time since she had let go like this. Stacy’s voice filled her head, her mother’s voice, and finally her own voice. Forget Jesse. Forget him. Just for a minute.

  Moving her body to the beat of the music, she slid her hands up her thighs and waist, feeling the tight denim against her skin. She focused on Finn and motioned for him to join her. He inched up against her body and loosely wrapped an arm around her, matching her moves, his body fluid and strong, not too aggressive, and after a few minutes she was lost in the music and dancing and Finn’s eyes. He smelled like the Java Lounge, like cinnamon rolls and cookies. She put an arm around his neck, inching her fingers up to his hairline. There was a thin layer of cool sweat on his skin, and it made her smile. Why had she denied herself this sort of thing for so long? She liked to dance, to feel connected to someone as they moved with her. She had gone to a few clubs with Brad in high school. That was where she had learned how to dance. Brad had taught her, and as she moved in ways she remembered doing years ago, all the memories came back—Brad forcing her onto his bed, Brad hitting her face, Brad walking with her down the beach to a smoky bonfire, Brad jealous of her flirting with that guy ... whatever his name was ... Damien. He wore glasses and had hair that fell across his forehead, like Finn’s.

  She stopped dancing.

  “What’s the matter?” Finn stopped and looked down into her eyes.

  Blinking, she realized how warm she was. Brad had been her first and only boyfriend before she was kidnapped. Damien had been the second guy she had even considered dating, but it had never happened. Jesse had been the third guy in her life, and the most intense. Now there was Finn. She didn’t even know his last name. In fact, she didn’t know much of anything about him, except that he was nice and smelled like a bakery and danced better than Brad ever did.

  She shook her head and started dancing again, but her beat was off. “Nothing.”

  “It’s something,” he replied, but didn’t push her to answer as he started moving with her once more. She was surprised at how quickly he got her back into the beat of the music. The song changed, and again he kept her on track, focusing on her.

  “What’s your last name?” she asked once the third song started and sweat began trickling down her back. “I can’t believe we’re on a date and I don’t even know your last name.”

  He smiled and tightened his hold on her for the first time. “I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

  “It sure feels like it is, whether I like it or not.”

  “And do you like it?”

  She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was dry. Her shimmery lip gloss was long gone. She was nervous and feeling sick and excited and angry all at the same time. “Just tell me your last name.”

  He leaned closer and said in a thick Italian accent, “Giachetti.”

  Naomi had to force herself to keep dancing. “You’re Italian?”

  “Only a quarter, but yeah.”

  Of course she would find herself attracted to an Italian. Two of her kidnappers were Italian. Evelyn cooked the best Italian food she would probably ever eat. Their whole plan was to take her to Italy.

  “Naomi, are you okay?”

  Snapping out of her daze, she nodded and slowed her dancing. All around her, bodies were moving, faces smiling, couples kissing. The smell of sweat and alcohol was overpowering the vanilla and cinnamon. She took her hand off Finn’s neck. “Can we, um, can we—”

  “Sit back down? Sure.” He led her to the table, where she sipped at her drink as if it might save her life. The sweetness wasn’t appealing anymore. It made her wince.

  “Do you want to leave?” Finn asked. He hadn’t even touched his drink yet. Instead, he leaned across the table, looking concerned. “Is it the drink?”

  She could see in his eyes that he also wanted to ask, is it me?

  She pushed her glass away. “Can we maybe go somewhere else?”

  “Sure.” He stood and helped her up, wrapping an arm around her as they left. She wasn’t sure she wanted his arm around her, but it helped her feel safer from her own thoughts. From herself.

  III

  FINN'S CAR WAS OLD, BUT IT WAS CLEAN and had leather seats. Naomi wanted it to swallow her up. She wanted to go home, but was too afraid to tell Finn that. He shut her door once she was seated, and then walked around to the driver’s side. Once he was in, she fastened her seat belt and stared straight ahead. The parking lot was full of cars, the moonlight reflecting off so many colors and glass, like some sort of frozen carnival.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Finn asked, not making any sort of move to start the car.

  She turned to look at him. “No, no, it’s me. It’s all me. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t spend time in places like that. I guess it was too much all of a sudden.”

  He nodded. “I understand, but you’re a great dancer.” He closed his eyes. “I mean, really great. I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

  Looking back to the moonlight and the cars, she shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” She jumped when he touched her arm, and he backed away, looking surprised. “I wanted to tell you I’m okay if you want to go somewhere else. We can go to my place, or we can drive around. I know a great spot you might like where we can just talk. I promise I’ll take you home anytime you want.”

  He seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel better. She nodded. The night was still young, and she had to admit going home so soon to lie in bed and feel sorry for herself was sounding less and less appealing. “Alright.”

  As he drove, she kept glancing at his hands. He wore a high school class ring with the letters NEHS. She guessed the emerald stone set in the center was his birthstone.

  “Is your birthday in May too?” she asked.

  He smiled. “It was yesterday. I turned twenty-two.”

  “Oh, well, happy late birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” She picked at a small tear on the seat. “Did you do anything fun?”

  “If you count playing basketball with my roommates, sure.” He laughed. “I prefer what I’m doing tonight, honestly.”

  “Oh, you mean hanging out with an insecure girl who won’t even tell you her hometown?”

  Clamping her mouth closed, she cursed herself for drawing attention to what she had tried so hard to avoid earlier. She didn’t know what it was about Finn that made her want to open up, but it was refreshingly annoying. She snuck a glance at his reaction. He seemed unaffected.

  “Wel
l,” he said after a moment, “I wouldn’t have asked you to hang out with me if I didn’t like the way you are. If you don’t want to tell me your hometown, I don’t mind.”

  She lowered her attention to the tear in the leather seat. She had already made it larger, and took her hand away.

  Finn turned the car into a dark lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires before he parked and turned off the engine. “We’re here.”

  Naomi looked ahead at what appeared to be train tracks. “Um, where is ‘here’?”

  “A spot I visit when I need to think.”

  “Train tracks?”

  “Yeah, come on.” He got out of the car.

  Too impatient to wait for him to walk around and open her door, she stepped out and looked around. From the glow of the streetlights, she could see the tracks stretch into the distance and then disappear into the night. Russian olive trees made crooked shadows. She wasn’t sure she believed Finn wanted to “just talk” here, but the spot seemed peaceful enough, and the road wasn’t far away. Cars drove by occasionally.

  Finn motioned for her to follow him toward the tracks, and as she stepped onto the ties, she slipped. Finn grabbed her hand.

  “There’s a spot where I like to sit and watch the river down past the trees,” he said, steadying her and then leading her up the tracks. “We can’t see the river in the dark, of course, but we can hear it, and that’s even better.”

  Naomi smiled. She liked the way he still held her hand, squeezing her fingers. It made her heart skip a beat. His Italian last name no longer mattered. Nothing seemed to matter for the longest space of time as they walked away from the car and the streetlights. Soon all that lit their path was moonlight.

  Naomi knew she should be frightened of Finn leading her somewhere dark and isolated. She had no idea where the tracks led, but she had been through many worse things than walking into the dark with a guy.

  “Here,” Finn said, and helped Naomi sit on the edge of the tracks. He sat next to her, but didn’t take her hand again. He leaned forward, bringing his knees to his chest. “This is where you can hear the river the best.”