I take my time eating, rinsing off the dishes and loading the dishwasher before going to my room and collecting Cole’s blanket. I wish I had a journal to write all my crazy thoughts in. Something to confide in that’s not a person who is going to gush and blow my feelings out of proportion. I don’t want to feel embarrassed about sounding like a little girl with a school-boy crush. And I want to write down the dream I had last night as it is already slipping from my memory. So that’s what I do.
I pull my laptop out from under my bed and pull up a new Word Document. I start typing up the description of the black abyss I was surrounded in and the sound of the rapid whispering Cole was talking in. Then I type up the words I can remember:
Miss you, angel, beautiful, forgive, Alex, hurt, father, Kakabel.
I rack my brain for more information from the dream, beating my fist on the side of my head as I try to slip inside the dream. Remembering the feeling of floating and hearing a constant background noise, which was probably the ocean sinking into my unconscious mind.
When I am done trying to interpret anything more, I save the dream into the document files on the computer and slide it back under my bed. Then, I go about the business of fluffing my blankets in an attempt to remove the sand from the bed. I finish making the bed and tiding up my room. With nothing else to do I fold Cole’s blanket and make my way over to his house.
I stop before ringing the doorbell because I can hear Cole playing a stringed instrument. It has the higher pitch of a violin. The piece is Brahms’ violin concerto. A favorite to many. The piece always orchestrates a vision in my mind of a warm sunny day and then the clouds come in, it starts to rain, the winds pick up to hurricane forces just to end abruptly and everything is beautiful again and at peace.
I creep inside the house without knocking because I don’t want to disturb his playing. He is standing with his back to me so I quietly walk over to sit on one of the upright chairs in his living room. I’m so mesmerized by the sway of his body as he is drawn in to the piece. I know how he feels. Your body just gives into the music until you feel like you have become one with it. It’s an escape from reality. Like the only reality there is in those moments are the sound and feel of the music. When you finally finish a piece, you are distorted and confused to find yourself back on the earthly plane and not in a world where there is only music. It’s no wonder why so many authors write about worlds created by music. Music is creation.
By the time he is done playing I am so lost in the imaginings the music created in my mind that when I open my eyes I realize he is staring at me and smiling.
“I’m glad to see your eyes are finally open,” he remarks.
I smile at him and ignore his greeting. “I’m sorry that I just walked in. I didn’t want you to stop playing and I was too drawn in to wait outside.”
“It’s okay,” he says, putting the violin in the case. “I don’t mind.”
I’m feeling really self-conscious and embarrassed around him again and I’m getting kind of sick of the feeling. But I don’t know what to say to break the ice. I rack my brain thinking of something to say, to offer an idea for something we can do today. Thinking of nothing else to say I use an apology again, “Sorry about last night,” I stare down and fidget with my feet. “You know, passing out on you.”
“Technically, you passed out under me,” he smiles at his own joke, while I roll my eyes at him. He sits down on the couch and spreads his arms out across the back of the couch. I wish I had chosen to sit on the couch so we could sit together. If I get up now, it will feel weird, needy. I don’t want to show him how much I feel like I need his contact.
I give him a ‘don’t be crude’ look. “I brought back your blanket.” I set it down on the ottoman in front of me. “Do you mind filling me on how I ended up back at home?” Of course Alex has already told me but I want to hear Cole’s side of it.
Cole’s smile gets wider. “You fell asleep at the beach so I carried you home. You don’t remember any of it?”
“No, and it’s kind of embarrassing.” I flush.
“Don’t worry, you don’t snore or sleep with your eyes or mouth open. You do talk a little bit though,” he informs me. I blush several more shades of red and look away from him. “Trust me; I couldn’t make out anything you said. You were talking in whispers, nothing really audible.” I start to feel a little bit more comfortable. “Alex wasn’t too happy with me though. He thought I influenced you to drink and you passed out.”
“You did,” I accuse him teasingly.
“That is not the same thing,” he says a little offended. “I didn’t even let you get to the point of intoxication. I never had the intention of getting you drunk to lower your inhibition.”
“That’s good to know,” I reply, smiling to let him know I’m teasing him again, but secretly I’m relieved that he admitted that.
“Is Alex still mad at me?” he asks.
“I don’t know. He didn’t really seem to believe me when I told him I wasn’t drunk.”
“You were pretty out of it. I had to pry your fingers off my neck when I put you in bed.” His smile returns and he gets the faraway look one gets when recalling a memory. “It was nice.”
I blush again, trying to imagine what it was like and getting embarrassed as I imagine the worst possible scenarios. I reach up and touch the angel wing necklace I’ve been wearing, momentarily remembering I have it on and recalling the word ‘wings’ from my dream. I disrupt his recollection and ask him, “Were you talking to me when I was asleep? I had a strange dream that you were talking to me but I can only remember certain words, like ‘wings’.” I pick up the pendant and let it drop back down to my chest.
His face pales and he stands up abruptly and heads toward the kitchen. “Not really,” he answers me. “Do you want water or something?” I hear him open the refrigerator door.
I follow him into the kitchen. “Sure,” I respond. I want to ask him what he means by ‘not really’ but I can see that he’s a little embarrassed by it so I leave it alone. Filing it away until he’s comfortable enough to tell me. I veer the subject away from last night and inform him, “There’s only one more, full day, before school starts. Are you ready to be fed to the sharks?” I raise my eyebrows up and down to indicate I’m one of those sharks.
He laughs. “Not really. I haven’t been given a curriculum or anything, so as of right now I’m assuming I’m only there to help tune instruments.” He shrugs his shoulders, looking a little disappointed. Then his face lights up as he tells me, “I’m playing at the Chrysler Museum tomorrow night. Would you like to play with me?”
“Um, no,” I respond quickly. I don’t like to play in front of big crowds and I don’t think I’m talented enough for that.
“Why not? There’s an opening to a new exhibit and its VIP only. There won’t be a lot of people,” he says, reading right into my thoughts.
“I can’t. Don’t ask me, please,” I almost beg.
“Fine. Then, will you at least come with me and keep me company?”
“Of course,” I respond, delighted to be in on plans with him.
“Great,” he beams at me. “Then you can get a feel of the atmosphere so next time you’ll be more willing to play.”
I drop my mouth at him. “You wish,” I scoff.
He just laughs. “I do.” I shake my head and take a long pull from the bottled water he gave me. “What do you want to do today?”
I give him a guilty look. “I was hoping you had some idea,” I admit. “I’ve been nonstop trying to fill my days that now my brain is empty of suggestions.”
“Would you object to the idea of lounging around here and watching movies? We could order a pizza later?” he offers.
“That sounds awesome,” eager to do anything with him.
*
We pick out three movies from his collection of a massive array of movies. He picks out ‘Clash of the Titans,’ I choose ‘The Time Machine’, a favorite classic for
me that I never tire watching, and we compromise on ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ because neither one of us has seen it yet.
We put on the latter film first, since it’s the one we both picked and make our way to the couch. He lies along the length of the couch and pulls me down to him, tucking me into the curve of his body. Then, he takes the blanket that I returned to him from last night and drapes it over the both of us. We settle in to watch Daniel Craig blotched the movie from the start by not faking a Swedish accent while all the other actors at least attempts it.
Cole is totally absorbed into the movie. He barely says a word or makes a movement except for his absentminded habit of stroking my hair and twirling the ends in his fingers. I have to admit it really gets my body humming. His other arms is lying out from under my body and I make a habit of mindlessly playing with his fingers until one of the sexual scenes come onscreen and I stop all movement of stroking his fingers.
The ending of the movie is different from the book and the original movie, leaving me in disappointment. We agree that the foreign version was a lot better but the actors still did a great job in this version. Cole gets up to grab his phone and order the pizza, while I start ‘The Time Machine’. When he comes back into the room he has himself a beer and a glass of wine for me.
“It’s the same from last night,” he informs me.
He takes a swig from his bottle and I ask him, “What’s your intention this time?” I let him know I’m referring to the wine by holding it up.
He almost chokes on his drink. “That’s not funny,” he tells me. “Wine is the norm for me. Where I grew up everyone drinks it. There are no hidden motives behind it. Do you want a water or soda instead?” He reaches for the glass but I snatch it closer to me.
Not wanting to offend him I say, “No, I’ll drink it.” And I take a sip to show him that the drink is wanted. “Where do you come from by the way? I just realized you don’t really talk about yourself in that way. I mean, you talk about your likes and dislikes but not much about your past.”
“I thought we were watching movies,” he says, moving to sit on the couch next to me and pointing to the start of the movie. “I’m sorry,” he says when he sees the hurt and confusion on my face. “It’s just really hard to talk about and it’s not something I want to share with you yet. But I do want to share it with you,” he’s quick to add. “Just not now.”
“Okay,” I reply, still hurt. I snuggle into the crook of his arm to let him know all is forgiven. We settle in to watch the movie and when the pizza comes, we devour the entire pie. And I alternate between drinking wine and water.
When the movie gets to the part when the freaky dude explains to Alexander why he can’t alter the past events of time Cole whispers, “I wish.” I ignore his remark. This is one of my favorite parts of the movie because when I was little I did not understand the explanation. I was so mad that Alexander was not able to save the beautiful Emma. I cry every time I watch the scene when I realize he has had to watch her die over and over again. Now, I’m entranced at this part of the movie because Alexander finally gets his answer and finds closure in the events of the far past. He’s finally able to move on.
When the movie is over, Cole cleans up the pizza box and refreshes our drinks. I grab the controller and start the final movie. Cole comes back into the room and hands me a bottle of water. I’ve had more wine to drink than intended and my head feels fuzzy. I take the water from him and chug it greedily to the last drop. Cole sits down on the couch, watching me in fascination. “Sorry, I’ll have to remember you’re not used to drinking.”
“Do you mind if I grab another?” I ask
“Help yourself,” he tells me and I rush to the refrigerator to grab another and chug that one quickly too before I grab a third and return back into the living room. Cole is already lying back down on the couch so I curl my body next to him as the opening credit starts.
“Now, it’s time for a history lesson,” Cole says.
“History lesson?” I inquire.
“Yeah, the movie. It’s ancient, ancient history,” he answers promptly. “They don’t have it all right but the general story is there.”
I turn my body around to see that his face is serious. “It’s just a story,” I tell him.
“If that’s what you choose to believe.” He shrugs his shoulders.
If the wine hadn’t succeeded in lowering my inhibitions, turning around and being this close to him has. I tilt my head back and kiss his chin and work my way down his neck, turning my head back and forth to feel his stubble against my forehead.
“What? Now that we put on my movie, you want to distract me?” he jokes.
“Mm, hmm,” I reply as I continue to kiss his neck and work my way to nibble on his earlobe.
He groans. “You do not want to do that,” he warns.
But I take it as a challenge and continue to nip and pull his lobe gently with my teeth. “Why not?” I dare him.
His response is blindingly fast as he lifts himself up and over my body while simultaneously locking my wrists together over my head with one of his strong hands. He leaves me breathless.
“Because, it’s torture and I’ll have to be forced to torture you for retribution,” he answers my dare. He leans over to kiss me but in the last minute switches tactics and starts to tickle my sides instead.
“Mercy, mercy,” I squeal as I thrash around underneath him, laughing uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop and so I try to buck him off me and we fall to the floor together. “You are so evil,” I tell him trying to catch my breath as he embraces me and kisses me gently but completely.
“I won’t be anymore,” he promises me. But there is something in his voice and eyes that tells me he’s making a promise that extends far beyond tickling me. He kisses my eyes shut one at a time and then kisses down my face and neck moving over to my collarbone and then nibbling at my ear, making me groan and my body feel electrically buzzed as he stimulates my body. He chuckles at my response and whispers in my ear, “Told you it was torture.”
Chapter 8
I didn’t stay too much longer at Cole’s house after the third movie ended. We had just spent six hours watching movies, well, we didn’t actually watch the last one, and he still needed to practice for his solo performance tomorrow night.
I come home to find Alex, Kaitlyn, Nathaniel, Hope and Ollie swimming in the pool. I don’t let them know I’m home though, because I’m really not in the mood to swim and I know that if they see me, they may start coaxing me to come out and I will have to give in. I quickly dart into the kitchen to grab a bowl of grapes and some cheese before I make my way to my bedroom to hide out.
Lying around all day has made me feel sluggish and now all I want to do is to continue to lie around. I pull my laptop out from under my head and type in the web address to a television website that broadcasts one of my favorite shows. I need to catch up on what I’ve missed in the past couple of weeks. I lie back on my pillows, sit the laptop in my lap and pop a grape into my mouth while I wait through the commercials.
A couple of hours later that’s how Alex finds me when he knocks on my door and peaks his head in. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I shut my computer off and put it away. I feel ready for bed.
“Why didn’t you come join us when you got home?” he says it like an accusation.
“I was tired,” I shrug my shoulders.
He nods his head for awhile until he says, “Ollie was asking about you.”
“So,” I reply harshly.
“Just thought you should be warned that the guy is crazy about you. Nathaniel says he won’t shut up about you.” He shakes his head like it’s the saddest thing. “He was really disappointed that you weren’t here.”
“Did anyone tell him where I was?” I mentally cross my fingers that someone let him down for me.
“Yeah, I told him. I was vague, said you were at your boyfriend’s house,” Alex assures me that the deed is d
one. “Felt really bad about it. But he bounced back quickly and said something about how he can tell you guys will make good friends.”
“Thanks, Alex,” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“For…” he prods.
“Letting him down for me,” I say sweetly.
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because he had to know before his imagination ran away with him,” Alex makes a point.
“Still, thanks. I couldn’t think of how to tell him without sounding like a bitch saying something like ‘Sorry, boyfriend’,” I say in a snobby, cliché way pointing to my chest.
“Yeah, sure.” He’s not amused by me. “I’m going to head back downstairs. Kaitlyn is still here. Everyone else is gone. You can come out now.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to get ready for bed.” I push myself out of bed and stretch my limbs. “Night.”
“Night,” he replies before closing my door.
“Alex,” I call to him before he can get too far. I don’t where the sudden thought popped up from but it feels urgent.
“Yeah.” He reopens the door.
“When you get a chance, could you research the name Kakabel?”
“Sure. Sounds interesting enough.” He closes the door again. Just like that. No questions. No snide comments.
I go into the bathroom and scrub my face, wash my hands and brush my teeth before donning some pajamas. I slip between the sheets and fall asleep thinking about Cole’s dark eyes, his curls, the feel of his stubble and the disturbing things he says sometimes.
*
I’m walking slowly down a dark, damp tunnel. There is almost no light down here except from something glowing from up ahead, the only source of light in the dark tunnel. The tunnel is wide enough for five or six people to walk abreast; the ceiling reaches about twelve feet high. All I can hear is water dripping from an unknown source and the sound of my racing heart beat and heavy breathing.
Lunangelique (The Lunangelique Series) Page 8
