“You should come home with us,” I say. “It will be . . . a lot better than this, I promise.”
He moves around behind a low table and starts in on clearing away takeout bags, emptying ashtrays. “I can’t contribute much. It just wouldn’t be cool.”
God, he’s so stubborn.
But then so am I.
“Well, how about a trade?” I suggest. “My car’s never coming out of the shop, and it’s going to be a while before the money stuff gets sorted. So, how about I take you up on using your truck? In exchange for you coming to stay. That’s fair, right?”
“You can use my truck anyway. I already offered.”
“I know. But that didn’t feel right to me, either. This does.”
“What about Beth? Don’t you have to ask her?”
Mia waves a hand. “She’ll be fine. You don’t know how many people come in and out of that place. She won’t care.”
He looks at me for confirmation.
“It’s true,” I tell him. “It’s practically a flophouse. One more body will hardly register.”
Which of course makes me think of his body under the shower. His hand on my throat. That kiss. I may be signing up for a lot of temptation, but it just feels—so much—like the right thing to do. And I’m a grown woman. I can keep my hands to myself.
“Please, Grey. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. That would be great. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 21
Grey
We’re ordering pizza from Johnny’s,” Mia says, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter. “Are you okay with pepperoni and pineapple?” she asks me.
“Um . . . on the same pizza?”
Beth’s sprawled on her back on the shag area rug, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She’s been on the phone since I walked in five minutes ago. She didn’t even bother to hang up when Mia and Skyler explained that I’ll be staying here for a few weeks. She just held the phone away from her head, then said, “Sup, roomie,” and went back to her conversation. She seems pretty chill.
“It’s a good flavor pairing, trust me.” Mia fishes her phone out of her purse. “The pineapple is a perfect foil for their spicy pepperoni. I’ll order a combo, too, in case your friend wants to come over. There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourself to anything.”
“Great.” I shoot Titus the address, telling him to get here now. The dinner with his parents fell through. They’re both lawyers and neither of them could get out of the office in time, which works out for me. I’m out of my depth and I could use him as backup. This is where I’m living for a few weeks, but I don’t actually know where I go. I feel like a suitcase someone hasn’t bothered to unpack and put away yet.
Skyler plops onto the couch and smiles at me. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
I think she means the funky pizza, but maybe she means being swallowed into the Mia-Beth-Skyler vortex. Mia just finished telling me I can use her bedroom furniture, since she and Ethan want to get some new things. Things are changing fast around me. I’m starting to worry there’ll be a Grey makeover in my future.
While Mia orders the pizzas, I head back into the adjoining living room. Beth’s blocking access to the only unoccupied chair. The girl’s got legs. And sitting next to Skyler on the couch doesn’t seem like a good call. It’s not that the couch is small. It’s more that I’m big, and that she sat in the middle, kind of monopolizing it. Why am I analyzing this? Screw it. I sit down next to her.
“So here we are,” she says, without looking at me. “In my . . . I mean our apartment.”
“Yep.” There’s a framed picture of her with Beth and Mia on the wall, from when she had blond hair. She looks great. It makes her more wholesome, more Kentucky. But I think I like the pink better. She’s damn hot, either way.
Skyler drums her fingers on her jeans. “It’s nice to be away from the studio. We’re there so much.”
“Except no craft services.”
“True, but no spotlights, either. That’s a plus.”
“And fewer people.”
“Well, Beth.”
“Right. But she’s not listening to us.”
I’m not even sure we’re listening to us. Why is this so awkward? Why did I tell her she was beautiful earlier, in her trailer?
This is painful. What’s the right move here?
I turn toward her, because it’s weird that we’re both facing forward. Now her face is only inches from mine. Now I’m trying not to look at her mouth, and trying not to stare into her eyes, and trying not to look like I can’t look into her eyes.
It’s cool. No big deal. I’m just going to be living in her apartment. I might get to see her step out of the shower in a towel, or in her pajamas. Maybe they’re tiny pajamas. Maybe she sleeps in one of those shiny, nighty things. Or a t-shirt. That seems more her style. Something soft and pink, like she was wearing in her headshot.
Shit. I’ve been staring. “So, um . . .”
“Yes?”
“You’re kind of a couch hog.” My shoulders are tight from surfing, and I want to sprawl out, stretch them, so I lean back, extend my legs, and drape my arm over the back of the couch. Better. “You’re going to have to work on that, if we’re going to be roommates.”
I weigh so much more than she does that the cushions sag my way and she becomes a sort of Leaning Tower of Skyler.
“I’m not a couch hog,” she says, scooting away from me. “It’s your fault for being so big.”
“Most girls don’t complain.”
She laughs. “You really should get over yourself.”
“I will if you will.”
“Deal.”
“Wait, hold up. I don’t like that deal.”
She smiles. “Too late.”
I feel like we’re finally getting over some nerves here. Getting back to feeling comfortable around each other. Beth is talking to someone about eyebrow piercings. She’s pinching the skin over her eye to test how much it would hurt. Mia’s disappeared. The bathroom fan is on; she’s in there. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aware of where people are. I’m like an air traffic controller for girls.
I bump my knee against Skyler’s. “So you got your first week out of the way. How do you feel?”
“Honestly? I’m hanging in there, but . . . I’m tired.”
I’ve noticed her eyes are glossy tonight, and there are faint shadows beneath them. They weren’t there the day of the first audition. I can’t imagine pulling her hours. The time she’s shooting is only a fraction of it. Even when she and Garrett are in their trailers, they’re running lines or doing publicity stuff, or waiting—which isn’t relaxing. When I perform, it’s a huge rush while I’m onstage. It’s a two-hour sprint. Sky and Garrett, they’re on all day. They’re doing daily marathons.
“Anything I can do?”
“Would you? Do something, I mean?”
“I offered. Name it.”
She shakes her head. The way she’s looking at me, it’s like she’s measuring me. Trying to figure me out. She’s the only person who makes me feel young, and it’s when she looks at me this way. It sucks. I’ve lived a lot for nineteen. I’ve seen a lot, been through a lot. If age is experience, I’m at least her age.
“Sky, stop looking at me like—”
Someone knocks on the door, and Beth jumps up to answer it.
“Hey, is—” Titus almost drops the twelve-pack under his arm when he sees Beth. “Whoa . . . Hi.”
“I gotta go,” Beth says into the phone and stuffs it into her pocket.
If love at first sight were something I believed in, it’d be happening right now. Neither one of them says a word for five full seconds while their pheromones introduce themselves, chat it over, and decide, yes. Yes, I find you very attractive.
“I’m Titus,” he finally says. “Grey’s friend. We’re in a band together. I’m lead guitar. Backup vocals s
ometimes, for songs that need backup, uh, vocals. Hope it’s okay I’m crashing. I brought beer for . . . for us to drink.”
Beth fills in her half of the equation with the roommate info, the acting info, the college info, and then double rainbows arc over their heads, and they’re both laughing at nothing—seriously, nothing funny. Something about the beer Titus brought.
“My ex hated it,” he says, “and we broke up a year ago.”
“That’s so weird!” Beth says. “My ex hated Dos Equis, too! Like, hated it. How can beer fill someone with wrath?”
And they make some kind of instant pinky-shake pact to forevermore call it Dos Exes.
Titus barely nods my way as he steps inside. He and Beth move into the kitchen like a developing hurricane, where Mia’s opening a bottle of wine.
Skyler leans toward me. “What. Just. Happened?”
That tiny gap between her teeth kills me. It gives her the sweetest damn smile. A smile that makes you smile back.
“What we just observed were literal sparks flying. Kind of like when we first met. Except we were sparkier.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. I already told you so. I made you melt, remember?” We both know we had mad chemistry. Have it. Her sunshine scent is driving me crazy. I want to brush the hair away from her bare shoulder. Kiss her. Being this close to her, it’s like the rest of the world goes out of focus.
She must see something in my face because she frowns. “Grey, we should talk about something. Now that you’re living here, we need to—”
“Hook up immediately. Agreed.”
“Yes—What? No.”
“I’m just messing with you.” When the doorbell rings, I stand. I don’t care about Adam’s stupid money. I’m buying dinner for my new roommates tonight. But before I answer it, I say, “You have my word. While I live here, I promise I won’t make the first move.”
She laughs. “What kind of promise is that?”
I wink at her. “A hint promise.”
Chapter 22
Skyler
Everyone tears into the boxes like it’s the first food they’ve seen in a week, and we settle in around the coffee table in our dinky living room rather than trying to cram in around our dinky kitchen table.
Beth and Titus spread out on the floor opposite Grey and me on the sofa. I give him a little more room this time, but he’s still so damn large, it feels like he’s everywhere. Or maybe I’m just so conscious of him. His beachy scent, the gravity of his body, so muscled and substantial. He’s so big, I can’t stop thinking of crawling onto his lap, being wrapped up in all that strength.
Mia hands Grey a generous slice of the pepperoni and pineapple, and we all wait for his verdict. He takes a bite that puts away half the slice and groans. Chewing, he gives Mia a thumbs-up and finally says, “Holy shit, this is good.”
“Told you. Spicy and sweet, the perfect combo.”
“Tell me about it,” Beth says, and Titus gives her a dazed look, like cartoon birds should be circling his head. I can’t believe he’s her type. She usually skews older, more professional. Guys with ties and plans. Not stubbled blonds who look like they just climbed out of a van. But she clinks her beer bottle against his and gives him the famous Beth Pierce smile, bringing it in a big, big way.
“You need to have some of this,” Grey says, handing me a piece on a paper plate. “And we might need to order another one. I’m going to house this whole pie in about five minutes. Trust me on this.”
“I totally do trust you,” I say, but I look down at my plate, at the beer on the table in front of me, and hear Kaitlin tell me to lay off bread and alcohol. Then I think about Garrett telling me that wheat is treated with pesticides, and that’s why so many people have problems with it. He’s gluten-free, too. But then, he’s kind of everything-free.
“Aren’t you eating?” Mia asks.
“Oh, yeah, definitely.” I take a bite of the pizza, and try not to think about pesticides or bloating or ripping through the bottoms of my wardrobe like some kind of She-Hulk.
“Good, right?” asks Grey, and I have to laugh at how it’s like he’s the Magellan of pizza discovery, clearly unaware that I have had this exact pizza roughly a hundred times before. It’s cute.
He’s just . . . really cute.
And a kid. Worse: a musician without a steady job, who throws house-wrecking parties and gives off this simmering anger half the time. Remember that, I tell myself, working to drive the message into my psyche.
I say, “So good,” and allow myself another bite. One piece isn’t going to make a difference. A couple of sips of beer. I’m not going to starve myself, right? I don’t want to be one of those girls who treat food like Kryptonite. I just have to be a little smart about it. That’s all.
We make it through the meal without the need to order another pizza, though Grey gives the last slice a mournful look, like he’s about to put it in a shoe box and bury it in the backyard.
“You guys should come check us out,” Titus says. Though by “you guys,” it’s clear he means, “You, Beth, the only girl whose existence I seem capable of noting at present.”
“That’d be great,” says Beth. “What do you guys play?”
They’ve already agreed on favorite books—anything by Chuck Palahniuk, Caitlin Moran, or Andrew Smith, and movies—anything by Wes Anderson or Richard Linklater, so I’m dying to see how they sync up with music.
Titus looks at Grey. “I don’t know. Kind of . . .”
“Like alt-rock,” Grey provides. “But roughed up. A little dirty. Like if Imagine Dragons went through a concrete mixer.”
He has a voice a little like Eddie Vedder’s, I think, so I can totally hear that. It makes me wish I’d stayed in the car and listened to more of his music. More of that sexy rasp that I know is going to develop into something even more devastating with practice and time.
Beth and Titus launch into a discussion of AWOLNATION, which she loves, and OneRepublic, which he loves, pretty much diving so deep into one another that the rest of us exchange awkward smiles and decide, en masse, to find other places to be.
“I’m going to head out,” says Mia. “I’ve got to do some storyboarding for the new Boomerang campaign.”
We say our good nights, and then Grey helps me clean up the paper plates and pizza boxes. I give him a quick tour of the kitchen, show him the balcony with its prime view of the alleyway and billboard cluster, and push open the door of the bathroom, so he can have a peek inside.
“Hello Kitty?” he smirks. “Really?”
“First of all, she’s awesome,” I tell him. “And second of all, it’s at least a better shower than the beach.”
“Did you know she’s not even a cat?”
“What do you mean? Of course she’s a cat.”
“Nope. Apparently, she’s a weird little girl in a cat costume.”
“She is so not a weird little girl in a cat costume. She is a cat. With a hair bow.”
He shrugs. “Google it. Weird little girl.”
“You’re a weird little girl.” I push him back out of the bathroom, up the short hall toward Mia’s room.
He laughs. “I guess I better get some hair bows then.”
“I guess you need some hair first.”
“Working on it.” He scrubs at the dark stubble on his scalp.
At Adam’s house, I saw a couple of photos of Grey pre-head shave, and his dark hair softened his eyes but made his cheekbones look a little more chiseled, his jaw even more striking. I’m glad to see he’s growing it out again, though I remind myself that my preferences don’t count for much.
I open the door to Mia’s bedroom and switch on the bedside lamp.
Grey sets his duffle on the upholstered chair near Mia’s vanity and glances around the room, taking in the lavender walls, the white eyelet comforter, the silver lamp with butterflies painted on the shade.
“It’s definitely . . . purple
.”
“I think it’s better than the 1950s mold you have going on over at the garage.”
“No kidding.” He walks over to the bed and runs his hands over the delicate wrought-iron headboard. “You think this thing’ll hold me?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He sits, and the box spring lets out a horrific groan. Laughing, he shifts his weight, and the headboard slams up against the wall behind it.
“I’m guessing Mia and Ethan don’t get it on in here.”
“Oh, I’ve heard some wall banging in my day,” I tell him. “But mostly they’re at Ethan’s.”
“Smart.”
I come and sit down next to him. “I forgot to tell you, you’re required to lie perfectly still every night. House rules.”
He sprawls out on the bed. “I might need you to climb on,” he says, patting his stomach. “You know. Keep me pinned down.”
My face heats. I try not to imagine myself moving up the bed to straddle his powerful thighs, run my hands over his broad chest.
“I’m afraid that’s not a service I provide,” I tell him. I’m pretty sure we’d break the bed. Or die trying.
“Too bad.”
My text alert chimes, and I pull out my phone.
Brooks: Hey, you busy?
I feel a weird flush of guilt. Like I’m cheating on Brooks. Or cheating on Grey. I don’t know, and that’s nuts, anyway, because I don’t have anything going on with either of them.
“Sorry,” I say to Grey. “Just have to . . .” Part of me doesn’t want to say it’s Brooks, but that feels wrong, like I’m hiding something. Because I have some motive I can’t possibly have.
“No problem.” But I feel his eyes on me. He shifts up in the bed, bunching Mia’s three hundred pillows behind his back and folding his hands across his chest.
Skyler: Not busy. What’s up?
Brooks: Can you come over? I’ve got Leigh here. Want to talk through a few things with you.
If I go, I’ll feel like I’m disappointing Grey. But if I don’t go, I’ll be letting down Brooks, Mia, Adam, and dozens of other people who are counting on my commitment to the film.
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