Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1)

by Taylor, Drucie Anne

  “Eight o’clock at my place?” he asks.

  “Sure, if you tell me where you live, I’ll come,” I answer with a smile.

  “Wait, I’ll write down my address. I’ll be right back.” Pax leaves us alone, and I can’t stop myself from following him with my eyes, checking him out. He’s big, a lot more muscular than back when we were together, and has light brown hair and a delicious-looking butt.

  Gavin clears his throat. “Your next fling?”

  I feel like I’ve been slapped. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re seriously flirting with each other.”

  “We weren’t flirting, we were just happy to see each other again. Pax was my first boyfriend, and after we broke up, we stayed friends,” I tell him, although I don’t in any way owe him an explanation.

  “Who believes it?”

  “If you want to put me down, go ahead, but please don’t do it in front of my friends, because I don’t have nearly as many as you do, OK?”

  “You think I have a lot of friends?” he asks derisively.

  “In any case, you have a lot more people who like you than I do.”

  “If you say so,” he answers seriously, and nods toward Pax, who’s just coming back into the garage.

  “We can talk about the repair at breakfast tomorrow,” he says, as he gives me a piece of paper.

  I read it carefully. Luckily, he also put his cell phone number on it. “Thanks, Pax. I’ll call you later.”

  “See you, Lane.”

  “See you,” I say, and give him a hug. I don’t care a bit that he’s dirty, because I’m going to go home and shower, anyway. I can wash my clothes.

  Pax doesn’t squeeze me against him, but puts an arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek. Then he looks past me to Gavin. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” Gavin says, turning away.

  We leave the garage together. We’ve barely gotten into the car when he takes off like he was shot out of a cannon, which makes me grab the door handle to balance myself. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask, panicked, because he’s already run a red light.

  “Nothing, I just want to bring you home in time.”

  “Can you please do it at a human speed? I’d like to be able to celebrate my next birthday.”

  “But of course.” He takes his foot off the gas, and I sigh with relief. My God, how can he terrify me like that?

  “Thanks,” I say, breathing heavily. I lean back on the headrest, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. My damn heart is racing like crazy because I got such a shock.

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve guided Gavin to my parents’ house. I’m relieved that I can finally get out of the car, because I haven’t really calmed down yet.

  “When are you coming tomorrow?” he asks.

  “I’ll be at your place around one o’clock,” I reply as I open the door. “See you.” When I’m finally out in the fresh air, I suck it in like I’m drowning. I’m feeling totally nauseated since Gavin demonstrated his lead-foot driving technique.

  He gets out of the car. “Is everything OK?” he asks, sounding worried.

  “I’ll be OK, somehow.” I support myself on the stone bannister of the front steps that lead to the door, and close my eyes.

  Gavin puts a hand on my back. “Lane?”

  “It’s really OK, I think,” I reassure him patiently.

  He turns me carefully so I’m facing him. “You’re paler than Snow White.”

  “Considering how you drive, it’s no wonder,” I murmur, and take another deep breath.

  “I’ll bring you in, OK?”

  I shake my head and turn toward the door, setting one foot carefully after the other on the stairs. “That’s not necessary.”

  He comes to my side. “Don’t mess around, Lane, let me bring you up, and then at least I’ll know that you didn’t pass out on the way. Just let me help you,” he says determinedly, as he stops me and lifts me into his arms.

  “OK,” I say in a small voice, because I don’t have another choice.

  “If I’d known it would make you sick, I would never have driven so fast.”

  “I’m not sick . . . I just had a panic attack, which is still hanging on a little,” I reply, and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “Do you have your keys in your bag?” His voice sounds worried.

  “Yes.”

  “In the handbag or the duffle bag?”

  “Handbag.”

  Gavin lowers me to my feet in front of the door, and he holds me tightly while he digs for the keys. “You’re swaying, Lane.”

  “I am not,” I argue, even though I feel a little dizzy. It feels like being seasick, even though I wasn’t anywhere near the water. I guess I’m a little carsick, but I’m definitely not swaying. Maybe he thinks so because he’s pushing me back and forth. First he holds me with his left arm to search my handbag for the keys, and then in the right, to open the door. Then he picks me up again.

  “Gavin, I think I can walk by myself.”

  “Safe is safe. Where’s your room?” he asks.

  “Up the stairs, and left at the end of the hall.”

  He carries me in and up the stairs. I have the feeling he’s looking around very carefully, but maybe just to orient himself. Or maybe he’s curious.

  When we reach my room, he sets me down on my bed. “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re very pale, you’re swaying; it seems like you’ll collapse any moment,” he says, convinced.

  “It’s really fine, Gavin. You . . . can go, if you want.”

  “If I want? And what if I want to stay?”

  My eyes go wide. “Do you want to stay?”

  “Was that an invitation?” He grins.

  “Umm . . .”

  “Thanks, then I’d love to stay.” He sits down next to me. “I’m really sorry I yelled at you before, but your behavior toward me is incredibly frustrating.”

  “I behave professionally,” I whisper, as I let myself fall back onto the bed.

  “You behave distantly.”

  “Why do you think that is?” I say with a touch of sarcasm.

  Gavin lets himself fall onto his back. “I’ve tried more than once today to come closer to you.”

  “When did that happen? I wasn’t aware of it, Gavin.”

  “Do you seriously want to know?”

  I nod. “Then at least I’ll know when I wasn’t being very observant.”

  He rolls onto his side, and bends over me, looking at me attentively. “You have wonderful brown eyes, did you know that?”

  “No, but thanks.”

  “And your blonde hair is a dream, too.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m listing the good points.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “You have a lot of them, Lane,” Gavin whispers, and kisses my cheek.

  I turn my head away, because the temptation he’s radiating is way too strong for me.

  “What I know of you won’t go out of my head anymore, Lane,” he whispers, stroking my cheek with his finger. He strokes my lower jaw, pulling my face toward him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

  “Because . . . it wouldn’t be a very good idea.”

  He slowly raises his eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “Because that’s the way it is.”

  “And the reason?” With every word he’s coming closer, and I just stare at him.

  “We . . . We’re not harmonious.”

  He stops, maybe one centimeter from my lips. “How do you mean that?”

  “You . . . get around a lot. Do you know what I mean? And I don’t,” I answer, still breathing heavily. This guy makes me totally flustered. I’d really like to . . . Can’t we just lock up my damn libido and throw away the key?

  “You think I get around a lot? Just because Azer believes I would fuck anything that isn’t tied down? I’m surprised you put so much faith in his opinion,”
he says skeptically.

  “Yeah . . . More because you really do travel a lot, and I think you must have plenty of encounters with girls and . . . your groupies,” I say in a small voice.

  “Do you want to know what kinds of encounters I have with girls? None, because I’m the only one in the band who usually doesn’t go out, because I need to recharge my batteries by sitting with a book in front of the fireplace, or by going to sleep. I think you have no idea how much energy my job takes, always being fully present on stage and for the media. I ‘got around a lot’ at the beginning, but that’s years ago now. Now I’m a lot more serious, and I never take a girl to my room who I don’t have any feelings for!”

  I suddenly feel a stab of guilt—it’s like a paper cut that’s been doused with alcohol to disinfect the wound. At first you don’t notice it, but then . . .

  “I felt something for you immediately—not love, but definitely affection, and I still feel that way.”

  I’m really not made for relationships, but how can I tell him that? Before I open myself up for something new, I always have to find closure with the past. With Jonah, with Brooke, and simply with everything that was ever hard for me. I doubt that Gavin would understand that.

  “Say something,” he whispers, looking at me pleadingly.

  I close my eyes to hide the tears that are threatening to overflow. The last thing I want is to show weakness. “Could you please just leave?” I whisper.

  “Why?” His voice sounds sad.

  I slide out from underneath him and stand up, then turn to face him. “Because it’s incredibly difficult for me to stay calm in your company! I can’t . . .” I take a couple of panicked breaths. “I’m . . .” I try again, and give up. “We just don’t fit together!”

  “You can’t what? What are you trying to say?” he asks with annoyance.

  “I can’t feel anything. I’m totally numb. And I’m not capable of having a relationship with you, if that’s what you want.” Now the tears come for real. There you go again, you damn drama queen, I tell myself.

  Gavin looks at me skeptically as he stands up. “I know you’re lonely, and I know what happened to you. Macey . . . told me quite a lot when I was talking to her after her show. I’m really sorry that your best friend killed herself. And I’m sorry your ex ditched you at such a difficult time. But I’m not like him. I would never leave just because things got difficult.”

  I swallow a lump that’s sticking in my throat. Macey . . . That goddamn little snitch! I wanted to have some fun, and she was the one who suggested I enjoy being single, and now this!

  “Don’t look at me like I just slapped you, Lane.”

  “Well, that’s how it feels,” I stammer and take a step back as he tries to close the distance between us. “I’m really sorry, I feel nothing for you.” These lies are going to kill me someday.

  He steps forward again and pulls me into his arms. “I don’t believe you. Would you have slept with me again if you had no feelings for me? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about me at all since then. Don’t pretend you don’t care about me.”

  “Gavin, we’re just too different. You don’t have any worries, and I do.”

  “Why are you worried?”

  “Because I live hand to mouth, always looking for the next job, always with the fear that I won’t be able to pay my rent the next month,” I answer, as I try to slip out of his embrace.

  “And you think I don’t understand that? Do you know what a musician has to go through before he ‘makes it’? It’s no different than a dancer’s life. Besides, I’m certainly not going to let you go, Lane,” he whispers, and he sounds very determined. “First I want to hear you say that you don’t care about me, while you’re looking into my eyes.”

  I don’t want to lie anymore—I’m so tired of it. On the other hand, I’m terrified of making myself vulnerable. I’ve really had enough of being some guy’s toy. I want to be the one who chooses for a change, but this Adonis is threatening to topple my façade. I take a deep breath for another lie, but the words won’t come out.

  Gavin looks at me piercingly. “I knew it.” He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. He looks at me intensely for the time it takes us to breathe once, and then kisses me tenderly.

  I sigh as the tip of his tongue pushes against my lips, and I open to him. But I don’t want this to go any further, and I turn my head away. “It won’t work.”

  “What’s keeping you from letting me come closer to you?” he asks softly.

  The sound of his hoarse voice sends shivers down my back. “Fear.”

  His gaze intensifies. “Why are you scared? What are you scared of?”

  I want to put some distance between us, but he holds me tightly. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I still feel invaded.

  “Of . . . myself, and above all of you,” I stammer.

  “I’m not giving up,” he whispers, and finally lets me go. He stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lane.” He’s barely finished the sentence when he exits the room. All I can do is watch him leave.

  A few minutes later, I’ve pulled myself together and I go into the bathroom. I turn on the tap in the tub, filling the room with hot steam, and undress. Then I slide into the tub and close my eyes.

  Chapter 9

  I haven’t dared leave my room since I got out of the bathtub. My parents were probably out, since I didn’t hear them coming home, despite my open door. I did, however, go to bed early, since I was completely worn out. The last thing I did was call Paxton to talk about this morning’s events. Why did Gavin do that? Maybe it would be best to call off the dance show. But that would make it difficult to get by in the next few months.

  I’m standing in front of Paxton’s door, waiting for him to open it. I’ve brought everything we’ll need for breakfast. Since I know he likes a hearty breakfast, it’s a lot. For myself I only brought some granola.

  “Top o’ the mornin’ to you,” he says with a smile as he opens the door.

  “Hey,” I reply with a giggle. “What’s up with you?”

  “I’m just in a really good mood,” Paxton says, looking at me curiously. “And what’s up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  I step past him into his apartment. “I’m fine.”

  “Lane,” he sighs.

  “Where’s the kitchen?” I ask, dodging his disapproval.

  Pax closes the door, swings around, and grabs my arm. “So, what’s up?” he questions me as we walk down a long hallway.

  “Gavin.”

  “Is he the guy from yesterday who was so rude?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “And why is he what’s up?”

  I sigh. “Well, three weeks ago or so, we met, went out together, had sex, and then broke up over a fight without really having had a relationship. The day before yesterday, I heard that I’ll be replacing a colleague on Celebrity Dance Hall because she hurt herself; then yesterday I was suddenly face to face with him. He brought me home after we were here, and then something pretty confusing happened . . . All I wanted was to have some fun with him, but I didn’t expect him to stick around in my head like this. On the other hand, my last relationship went to pieces not so long ago, and a friend of mine killed herself, which is why I really can’t deal with anything new right now since I haven’t processed those things yet,” I ramble without so much as a breath in between the words, and I sit down on a chair that Pax pushes me down onto.

  “Whoa, there. Sounds like a pretty complicated story and a complicated life you’re leading,” he says, sitting down across from me.

  I put my elbows on the table and lean my head on my hand. “My life is such a melodrama.”

  Pax gets up again to set the table. “Why did your last boyfriend break up with you?”

  “That’s a long story that sounds pretty simple in the short version: it turned out to be too much for him. He couldn’t be there for me when I needed him most.”

 
He nods as he takes the bread rolls from my hands. “Sounds like a real scumbag.”

  “He wasn’t really that scummy. He was probably overwhelmed by the fact that I was mourning my best friend.”

  “And you still are, Lane, that much is clear.”

  I lower my gaze, then nod curtly.

  Pax comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “That kind of thing takes time to work out.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My dad died two years ago, and I’m still mourning him.”

  “Does it ever stop hurting?” I ask quietly.

  “No. It’s always going to hurt, but you’ll stop crying someday. You learn to live with it,” he murmurs and crouches down next to me. “I know the two of us . . . That was ages ago, and I’m not trying to make a move on you or anything, but if you need to talk, then you know my door is always open for you, OK?”

  “Thanks, Pax.” I let him pull me in for a hug and close my eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad, he was a really nice guy.”

  “Yeah, he was, but he was sick, too.”

  “What was it?”

  “Pancreatic cancer. Within a week of the diagnosis he lost extreme amounts of weight and died.”

  “Oh, crap!”

  “Yeah, it was unbelievably crappy, but I’m glad he didn’t have to suffer long.”

  In that moment we’re there to comfort each other, and I’m glad that I met Pax again. I’ve often wondered which way he went after high school, and now I know. And yet it surprises me. He wanted to be a lawyer, but his family was always low on money. “Why did you stay here?”

  “My grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship, and I couldn’t pay for college myself,” he answers as he detaches himself from me.

  “But you could have found a good job, back then,” I say, surprised.

  “I could have, had I not been so stupid as to not even apply anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “I like the job with John, and as soon as I’ve saved up enough money, I’ll enroll in a correspondence course for my degree.” He smiles and looks down at the table. “Are you honestly eating that rabbit food for breakfast?”