West’s lips part, and I feel his breath, warm and a little minty from his toothpaste. He closes that last inch and now we’re pressed together, and I realize my hands are on his hips. I’m not quite sure when that happened. I don’t remember putting them there.
Through our wet shirts I feel the steady thump-thump of both our hearts. His hand moves, the one on my hip, sliding up to my ribs, and I hear my own shallow intake of air.
“We’re really wet,” he says, his voice deep.
I try to say something back, but instead just nod.
His thumb on my cheek moves, caressing. Would it be strange for me to close my eyes and just feel?
Then he shifts a fraction, bringing us even closer if that’s possible, and a tremble runs down my spine. Instinctual awareness overwhelms me, and I crave something. Now.
His hand on my ribs shifts again, and his fingers brush the scars on my back at the exact same second lightning cracks through the sky and reality zaps through me. My scars! I jerk away, insanely aware I’m panting, and I fight every urge in me to run as I stagger back a step. Oh my God, did he feel them?
Suddenly, I’m hot, burning, blazing, and my throat goes raw.
I told him to be tender with you. That you’re one of the good ones. Anne’s words come back to me in a weird rush.
West backs away in silence, and we just stare at each other for a few seconds. Then he breaks eye contact first, turning and going to sit on the gazebo’s bench. Everything about him seems apprehensive and strained, and I don’t move for a good solid minute as I concentrate on getting myself back in control.
Rain slows to a drizzle now and I shiver. A few joggers resume their run on the paths below. Silence hangs between us, and I can see the anxiety that I feel in him, too. Suddenly I want the sensation back from a moment ago and not all this thinking.
West gives a defeated sigh, and the sound of it breaks my heart. I made that sound.
He looks at the spot beside him, silently inviting me, and I move over to sit. I need to say something and make all this awkwardness go away. Because…I like West. I don’t want to run him off. He’s such a part of my everyday life now, I can’t imagine him not in it. I can’t imagine him not being my friend.
I shiver again, and he lifts his arm to put it around me.
“Okay?” he asks.
That question absolutely warms me, and I nod as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me in snug, cocooning me with all that is him. Together we watch the remnants of the rain, the sun sneaking out, and more joggers emerging.
Minutes pass and West turns to me. “This is nice.”
I’m so glad the weirdness is dissipating. “Yes, it is. I’m…I’m sorry it’s so hard to be around me sometimes.”
“You’re worth the effort,” he whispers.
“Thank you,” I whisper back, relaxing, slowly gaining back my comfort level.
“There’s a strength in you,” he quietly tells me. “You just need to believe in it.”
Stunned, I look over at him.
He lowers his head so his lips brush my ear, and a tremor skips down my neck. “One day you’ll really see that.”
I hope he’s right.
For a few seconds, he toys with the ends of my short wet hair, and I close my eyes and just enjoy the tugging on my scalp. True affection. No wonder people crave it. No wonder people need it. It’s wonderful.
When I open my eyes back up, I find West’s black ones intensely locked on mine. “You ready to head back?” I ask.
“No. But I suppose we should.”
No, I really wasn’t, either, but we jog back in silence as I replay what just happened between us over and over again in my head.
Finally, we reach the hotel and push through the revolving door into the lobby.
“West!” a reporter waves.
The camera starts flashing, and I duck and make a demon dash for the stairwell. No!
Chapter Fifteen
“Eve!” West yells, chasing after me.
I leap the steps two at a time. The cameras!
If you ever try to run from me, I’ll hunt you down. I’ll make you suffer.
Gideon’s words bang through my head and propel me faster up the stairs. What if that picture shows up somewhere? What if he sees it?
“Eve!” I hear West racing up the steps behind me a fraction of a second before he grabs my arm. “Stop. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, tugging my arm free. “I don’t like my picture taken, that’s all. Is that so hard to understand? Not all of us live for fame and glory.” It’s a horrible response, and I know it.
He frowns with the insult. “That’s not fair.”
He’s right. It’s not. But I turn away and keep climbing.
West lets out a defeated sigh. “Eve. Please stop.”
I do, but I don’t turn to look at him, and several quiet seconds pass.
“What do you want?” I finally ask.
“I…I want to help you,” he mumbles.
Slowly, I turn to face him. “What did you say?” I ask, not even sure if I heard him correctly.
But he doesn’t respond. In fact, he doesn’t even lift his head to look at me, and I begin to wonder if he said anything at all.
A lot of weird seconds pass as I stare down at his bent head and defeated posture and about a million things go through my mind. But what I land on is—does he need my friendship as much as I need his?
That last thought has me softening with the realization that I think West might be lonely. “Hey,” I whisper, and he lifts his head to look at me. There’s so much in his eyes right now—confusion mixed with hope—but nothing happy. I want his happy back.
“Why don’t we forget what just happened,” I suggest. “Sound good?”
His expression gentles, looking so relieved it makes me glad I said what I just did.
“I know you have the day off.” His face brightens with anticipation. “Will you spend it with me?”
I want to say yes, but I know I should say no. I wish my life was anything other than what it is.
West takes the rest of the steps up until he’s standing on the one below me. “Somewhere between me asking you to spend the day and right now, your brain wandered off.” He wraps his hand around my bare knee and strokes the back of it with his fingers, and I try to ignore the tingles that sends to all the parts of my body.
“No cameras,” he reads my mind. “We’ll wear hats and dark glasses. You’ll see. No one will bother us.”
I think about all the times he and I have gone running. All the times we’ve been on and off buses and in and out of venues and hotels. It’s true. Usually reporters snag him behind stage or at the hotel. Fans get him coming out of venues. I’ve never once seen him get hounded just randomly out in public.
“Plus,” he continues, “it’s New York. We’ll blend in more than anything.”
My resolve slips a little. “What are you planning on doing?”
His eyes crinkle as he continues stroking the back of my knee. “Grand Central Station, Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, eat in Little Italy.”
Those are the exact things we talked about when we were looking at the map. Knowing he remembered fills me with all kinds of silly glee. “And if I say no?” I tease.
He pouts. “Then I’ll just go all by my little old self.”
I chuckle.
West tilts his head to the side and lowers his fingers to tickle my calf. “So…?” He strokes back up to the underside of my knee and just a little higher to the back of my thigh. “Eve?”
I shift away, stepping up to the landing. I can’t think when he’s touching me.
“Please,” he begs.
“Okay,” I finally say, giving into the silly glee with a laugh.
His face brightens again. “Really?”
I smile. “Really.”
And he smiles back, but it’s not his usual grin. It’s more of a sweet one, a genuine one. “Cool.”
Yeah, cool.
Chapter Sixteen
Thirty minutes later I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, smoothing pomade through my wet hair and thinking of the kiss that almost happened in Central Park. In the mirror I catch sight of Anne sitting at the hotel desk, scrolling through her iPad. She’s up earlier than usual for a day off.
“Come with us,” I tell her, feeling more and more nervous as the minutes tick by.
Anne snorts. “No way, chica. You’re a big girl. You’ll be fine.”
I know she’s right. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been alone with West. I mean, we’re alone every morning for our run. But this is different. This isn’t a run. It’s like a date or something. Although he didn’t use that word.
I know it’s your day off. Spend it with me. Those were his exact words.
“You need to loosen up. It’s not like he’s going to eat you.” She glances over, mischievousness glimmering in her eyes. “Or maybe he will.”
“Anne!”
She rolls her eyes. “You guys hang out every day. What’s the big deal?”
“True…”
Anne cocks a pierced brow. “Dude’s got it bad for you. You realize this, right?”
“No, he doesn’t,” I deny, though way down deep I wonder if that could possibly be true. Could such a wonderful boy really like me? “We’re really just trying to be friends.”
Anne snorts. “Whatever you’ve got to tell yourself.” She turns in her chair to fully face me. “Listen, I love you to death, girl, but it’s clear you’ve got a lot of shit you’re working through. And that’s cool. You and me, we’re cool either way. But go with West and just hang out. Don’t worry about friendship or romance or whatever. Just…be. You know what I mean?”
A knock sounds on our door, and my nerves kick back in as Anne hops out of her chair to let West in. The door closes, and it’s the three of us and our tiny room. His yummy shower smell wafts across the space and surreptitiously, I inhale. He looks straight at me, his eyes crinkling with a smile, and it’s totally my imagination but the walls seem to shrink in.
“Hey, Green Eyes, ready?”
With a nod, I walk over to grab my stuff.
He huffs a laugh. “Those Miss Piggies?”
I look at the row of dancing pigs on my shirt. “Yes.”
“I really do need to show you my underwear some time.”
Anne rakes her gaze down him. “Well, drop ‘em. No time like the now.”
West gives her a playful shove.
“Eve changed outfits two times,” Anne rats me out.
“I did not,” I deny.
“And I changed three. So I’m winning the primp game,” West says, making us all laugh. I do love how he can make everything into a joke.
West gives my green long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans a once over. His perusal makes my face heat, and I busy myself with putting my hat on so he won’t see. I wonder if he remembers telling me green brings out my eyes.
West turns toward the door and catches sight of the duct tape I pressed over the peephole. “That’s weird.” He reaches up to tear it off.
“Don’t!” I snap before I realize it’s come out.
He jerks back and spins to see my panicked face.
“I—” my gaze goes from the tape, to him, to Anne, back to the tape. “I…”
“Have fun,” Anne puts in, opening the door and giving West a little shove. “Forget about everything,” she whispers to me. “Seriously, have fun.”
I follow behind West, my insides flopping all over the place. This is going to be an interesting day.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey,” West comes up beside me at the ferry’s railing.
Butterflies flit and fling through my stomach, making me a little queasy. Is it normal for someone to have this many butterflies? I’m overreacting. I realize this. It’s not like we haven’t hung out nearly every day since we met. But we’re not in running clothes. We’re in normal clothes, and we’re alone.
Or as alone as two people can be on a ferry full of tourists heading to the Statue of Liberty.
“Having fun?” he asks.
I glance over at his fedora and eyes hidden behind shades. Why does he always have to look so yummy? Can’t he have an ugly day now and then? “How many times have you been to New York?”
“A lot. When we were just kids and won that contest in Orlando that I mentioned, we came straight here and met with a bunch of big people.”
“Wow, I bet that was overwhelming!”
He laughs. “My Gramma came with me. She was bound and determined I wasn’t going to get a big head about anything.”
I smile at that. “You sound like you have an awesome grandmother.”
“I do.” He bumps his shoulder to mine. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her sometime.”
“Maybe,” I agree, thinking that sounds pretty great. “Well, with as often as you come here, I’m surprised you’d want to do such touristy stuff like we’re doing right now.”
He leans on the railing beside me. “I never get tired of it. I always see something new. Always.” His lips tip up. “Plus, I wanted to hang out with you.”
The butterflies start again, and I take a deep breath as we continue standing at the railing, silently staring out across the water.
He leans his shoulder against mine and leaves it there, and I don’t think anything’s ever felt so good. “So what kind of movies do you like?” he asks.
“Anything funny. Despicable Me was great.”
“A woman after my own heart.” He does an impression of the minions, “Ba-na-na,” pointing his finger at me and widening his eyes, and we both crack up. “How about music?” he asks next, still laughing.
“I’m old school. I love Fleetwood Mac and Eagles and England Dan.” I get excited just thinking about all the records Bluma’s mother has that she let us listen to. I love those records. “Simon and Garfunkel and The Beatles. The Who. I could go on.”
He nudges his shoulder to mine again. “Me, too! Cartoons, funny movies, old school rock. Like I said, a woman after my own heart.”
West props his elbows on the railing next to me. “How about candy bar?”
I smile. “I love pixie sticks.”
He rolls his eyes. “Clearly, someone needs to school you in candy bars. It has to have chocolate.”
I laugh. “No, it doesn’t!”
And on we talk, rocking peacefully with the wake and watching the scenery. Time silently rolls by, and I find myself settling into his nearness and the cozy peacefulness it brings.
Eventually the ferry ride is over and we take a cab to Little Italy. “Your pick,” he tells me, pointing out several restaurants. I eye them all and choose one with a purple and orange awning.
“To friends,” he toasts, after the waitress brings our drinks.
Friends. Yet it does seem like we’re becoming more.
“Hey.” He pulls out his iPhone. “Give me your number. I can’t believe I don’t already have it.”
I do, and I watch as he types it in. My phone buzzes then, and I check the display. Hi, it’s West!
Smiling, I save his contact and reply, Hi, it’s Eve!
“So let’s see, we did movies,” he says, tucking his phone away, “music, and I already know your favorite is Italian. How about coolest place you ever travelled.”
I look out the window behind him. I’ve been everywhere and yet here, right now, is the best. “This place,” I say.
“Yeah, New York’s awesome. Oh, man, I was in Argentina once. That’s got to be the most gorgeous place in the world.”
Argentina. Now that’s a place I’ve never been. “Why is it so gorgeous?”
“The glaciers. The water. The waterfalls. The salt flats. The mountains. The architecture. Outdoor cafes. Cobblestone streets.” His eyes brighten. “Penguins, too! Oh, Eve, you would love it.”
I sigh, imagining. “That does sound lovely. Where else have you visit
ed?”
West thinks about that for a second. “Mexico, all over Europe, Australia, New Zealand, the Philippines.”
“You’ve been everywhere!”
“I have, and I’d love to take you some time. I think we should make Argentina our first stop.”
I take a sip of my water, imagining the freedom to travel and do and see whatever I want. Beside us a couple of girls start laughing and gradually it grows harder and louder, and one of them snorts. I watch them both, smiling at how open they are.
Our lasagna finally comes, and we eat and talk about everything from roadies to music to our next city on the tour. After that we just walk around with no agenda, stopping when we want, popping in and out of stores, and browsing street vendors.
Day turns into night, and at nine West suggests, “How about I get a blanket and we do some star gazing from the top of the hotel?”
The butterflies are back. “Sure, that sounds great.”
He gets one from the concierge, and we ride the elevator all the way to the top where a heated pool and lounge chairs are, but at this hour there’s only one person quietly doing laps. West leads me to a secluded spot all the way in the corner of the roof and spreads the blanket out. We take our hats off and lie down beside each other to stare up at the cloudless and twinkling star-lit sky. A chilly breeze flows past and instinctively, we move toward each other. I think of the hoodie he lent me, rolled up in my duffle.
“Know anything about astronomy?” he asks.
“Nah, not really. About as much as anyone else I suppose. You?”
“No.” He slides his hand over until our pinkies touch, and all my focus goes straight to that tiny appendage.
We lapse into silence, lulled by the distant traffic sounds and the whirring of a fan on the roof. I don’t know how much time passes and I don’t care. I’m starting to get cold, and I don’t care about that, either. I wouldn’t want to be any other place right now.
That thought has me sighing in contentment, and my eyelids begin to fall as I give into the heaviness of them. In my sleepy fog I register West shifting a little, and I shift, too, even closer to his warmth. I should probably put space between us, but everything feels so good, so right…
Shadow of a Girl Page 7
