by LJ Evans
“Well. Yes. If we are being specific, but I assumed you understood that meant I’d come by in a few days when I had more time. I’m really busy finishing school and I have work and the blog.”
“Then you should have said that.” I was annoyed at the thought of having to wait days to see you. “Where do you work until eight o’clock at night?”
“That’s really not relevant.”
I ran my hand along the smooth metal. It was almost the right texture of silk. Not there yet. I would have much rather been running my hands down you. But, I thought that if I came on as strong and hard as I wanted to that you were going to freeze and walk away.
I sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“Not probably,” you bristled, and I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of your beautiful pale eyes flashing.
“Come see it now,” I said quietly, smoothly. And I know it sounded like a demand, even though, to me, it was as close to begging as I’d ever been.
“Um. No,” you responded like I was an idiot, and this normally would have sent me into the boxing ring, but instead you made my lips twitch into a smile.
“Afraid?”
“Um. No,” you repeated. But I could tell you were trying to convince yourself as much as me.
“I want you… I’d like you to see the studio.”
“Why?”
I couldn’t tell you the real reason. The real reason was insane. The real reason would have you blocking my number.
“I think you appreciate my art.”
“Lots of people appreciate your art, do you invite them all to your house?”
“No.”
“I see.”
Silence. Still charged. Charged with energy like the building of a wave until it has reached its crest.
You broke the quiet with a question, “So why do you want me to see it?”
I slid my hand over the silky metal while I tried to decide what was the safest thing to tell you. I resorted to a half-truth. “I want you to see your piece.”
I worried I’d lost you because you were quiet for so long. But eventually, you breathed out, “My piece?”
“Most of my pieces start with an image. A flash. I haven’t been able to get this vision out of my head since I saw you last night.”
After another long pause, you said, “Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“It’s ten o’clock?” You said it like you meant it to be a statement, but it came out as a question, as if you were wondering if that was a good reason.
“That just means it's eight o’clock in Hawaii.”
You laughed and it hit me in the chest.
“Not tonight,” you repeated.
“Tomorrow morning.”
You spoke soft and low. “I have to work.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Yes,” and now you sounded exasperated. “Not all of us are free to make our own work hours.”
“When are you done?”
“Noon.”
“I’ll have lunch ready.”
“I won’t be there till well after lunch time.”
“It’ll wait.”
You seemed hesitant to say yes, but I knew you were close to relenting. I could feel it. So, I did the only thing I could think of, I begged. “Please.”
You sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can after work.”
“PJ?”
“Yes?”
“Sweet dreams.”
I was grinning like a damn fool when I ended the call, but I felt calmer than I had all day. And, that was just the beginning. What I felt then. When you said yes. That was just the tip. Like that antennae on that super tall building in Dubai, the rest of the building yet to come.
(You Want To) Make a Memory
PJ After Letter Three
“If you don’t know if you should stay, and you don’t say what’s on your mind. Baby just breathe. There’s nowhere else tonight we should be.”
-Bon Jovi, Child, & Sambora
THIS LETTER FROM SETH does feel like the tip of the iceberg. The antennae on a huge building. The intensity of everything that came next overwhelms PJ just thinking about it. She looks at herself in the mirror over the sink in the dingy apartment she shares now with Haley and Mina and remembers the mirror in the gym and the nervousness she felt going to see him that first Saturday.
The doubts. The ringing phones. The pieces of time they stole. She puts on Bon Jovi’s “(You Want to) Make a Memory” because Seth’s right, Jon seems to know their story.
PJ wonders now what would have happened if she hadn’t gone over there that day. Would it all have been different? Would she and Seth still have ended up where they ended up? Somehow, she thinks they would have. It might have started later, but she doubts that Seth would have had the ability to stay away. Or her the ability to resist.
* * *
That first Saturday they were together, she spent the morning questioning herself. How strong would her resolve be? What exactly were her intentions going over there? Just trying to decide what to wear had made her late for her little ninjas. The night before, she’d been unable to sleep, thinking instead of Seth’s deep, sexy-as-all-get-out voice, and his clear blue eyes. She was still thinking of him the next morning as she threw ten different outfits into her gym bag, dumped them out, and started over again.
And even after all her classes, when she’d showered, shaved, done her make-up, and tossed her hair up into a loose bun, she was still unsure what to put on. She stared at herself in the women’s locker room mirror. She almost wanted to put her yoga pants and her Freestorm Gym t-shirt back on. It would make her feel safe. Like she could outrun whatever emotions and physical reactions that Seth Carmen seemed to be pulling from her.
Her text tone pinged.
NO CALLER ID: I won’t be able to see you today. I’ll miss your smile. Stay happy. Stay beautiful. I’ll see you soon.
It gave PJ goosebumps. She tried blocking it the normal way, but it didn’t work. She was trying to figure out what to do next when Liv came out of a stall with discomfort written all over her face and thoughts of the text left her head.
“Are you okay?” PJ hurried to her sister-in-law’s side.
“Fine,” Liv responded with a wave and a hand to her back. “I swear, this little joker thinks stepping on my kidneys and bladder is like jumping on a trampoline.”
“Do you want me to get Justice?”
“God no. He already worries like a papa bear.” Liv gave PJ a weak smile and a quick hug. “I’ll be good. Two weeks, and then I’ll be complaining about no sleep because this little critter is up all night.”
PJ couldn’t help but watch her with a worried half-smile. “Honest, PJ, I’m good. If it gets worse, I’ll let Jus take me to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
“Now, explain to me why you have half your closet here?” Liv said, turning to the pile of clothes on the locker room bench.
PJ sighed and twisted the t-shirt she held until it was almost a braid. “I don’t know what to wear.”
“For?”
PJ squinted her eyes at her sister-in-law. “I swear, if you tell the guys, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Oooooooh. You’re going to see the sexy artist?”
“How do you know he’s sexy?”
“Looked him up last night after all the talk. He’s sexy as sin. How was the kiss?”
PJ sat down and said mournfully, “Incredible.”
Liv laughed at her. “And this is a bad thing because?”
PJ didn’t know how to explain it. The mix of emotions that felt like a battering ram on the promise she’d kept for so long. So, she just shrugged a half-response.
Liv sorted through the clothes on the bench and came up with an aqua and tan summer dress in small geometric patterns. The dress was soft and flirty and clung in all the right places without looking like she was trying too hard to be noticed.
“You know, PJ, it doesn’t have t
o be for keeps. How long has it been?”
PJ took the dress from Liv’s hands if only to distract Liv from the question as she slid into it. She couldn’t meet Liv’s eyes. She didn’t know how much Justice had told Liv about PJ’s past. PJ hadn’t told her. And she didn’t think Liv would judge her for it, but it was a past she had no desire to repeat.
“Probably too long,” was all PJ could tell her.
Liv came to stand in front of her and straightened the straps on the dress before tipping her chin up. “It’s okay to want him.”
“I know,” PJ said, stepping away and turning around so that Liv could zip the back.
“No. You say you know with your head, but you don’t believe it with your heart.” Liv zipped her and then awkwardly hugged her with the baby bump in between them.
PJ nodded because Liv was right. And wrong. PJ herself wasn’t sure what the right thing was. They both turned towards the mirror. The dress made PJ’s eyes pop and her skin look bronze. It was a good dress. She had known that when she’d bought it off the sale’s rack at the outlets. She just hadn’t ever imagined wearing it to meet a man like Seth.
“You look beautiful.” Liv smiled and pulled at the clip holding up PJ’s hair. It tumbled down in a wave of tangled curves to land well past her shoulders.
“No. It’ll just be in the way all day,” PJ grumbled.
“Then bring a hair band for later, but at least arrive like this.”
PJ sighed, shoved all the rest of her clothes back into the gym bag, knowing she’d regret it later. The wrinkled clothes being the least of all the things she’d regret.
“Thanks, Liv,” PJ said as she made her way to the door.
“PJ,” Liv called out, and when PJ looked back at her, she winked and said, “Have fun!”
PJ gave her an exasperated wave.
In the car, PJ held her breath as the Caterpillar tried to kick itself over. The engine rumbled into life; the typical rumbling purr of a Volkswagen that needed to be put out to pasture. But, she didn’t have the money for a new car. Every last dime was going towards saving for her master’s program and the expensive cost of living in New York. Not that she was going now, she reminded herself. It was still too hard to let go of the dream though.
She plugged her iPhone into the magnet on the vent, turned on Google Maps and linked it to the address that Seth had put in the day before.
She was full of nerves as she backed out and followed the calm voice of Google in the direction of the ocean. Thirty minutes later, she pulled up in front of Seth’s beautiful, Cape Cod style house on the beach. PJ’s breath hitched at it. It was a stunning breath of Nantucket in the middle of L.A. Gray, with white exterior shutters and a slightly wild flower and herb garden growing out front.
It was so not what she had expected from a moody, Latino, junk artist. She had expected something more modern with lots of glass and steel and gobs of windows to show off to the world. And yet, somehow, that warm and comfortable structure whispered to her about something inside Seth that she didn’t quite want to acknowledge.
She put her head on the steering wheel as she let the engine putter to a stop. She breathed in deeply. Her emotions were bouncing all over the place. She was incredibly attracted to Seth, and yet she sensed there was plenty of danger in taking another step towards him.
Her body was already reacting to him. And she had promised herself no more. No more using guys to make herself feel better. And she was so full of uncertainty and failure these days that it felt almost like it had before. When she’d used guys to fill her sense of loss. It felt like she was on rewind instead of fast forward. Four years, and she was right back to where she’d started.
A knock on her driver’s window startled her. She looked up into a pair of staggering blue eyes frowning down at her. She sighed. There was no way she could stay unaffected by this beautiful creature. Even if it ended in just a short-lived affair, which she was positive was the only thing he was looking for, it would be an incredible ride. It didn’t have to be about loss and emptiness. Couldn’t it just be about this moment with a man who made her blood pump a little faster?
Her therapist from high school would say yes. Her brain was saying yes, but her heart was shouting to run.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern dripping from his voice. Real concern. Not the passerby kind of concern a stranger uses when they see you trip. This was the kind of concern that you’d feel for your best friend if she showed up with a bruise on her face.
PJ nodded a response and grabbed her purse. She pushed open the door, and he held out a hand to help her out. She looked down at the calloused hand. It was a worker’s hand. She was reluctant to take it knowing how her body reacted to his, but he grabbed hold before she could decline. As soon as his skin touched hers, it sent that wave of particle collision down through her arm and into her chest. She swallowed hard and when she looked up, she thought she saw something akin to her own feelings of shock and caution reflected in his brilliant blues.
As soon as she was standing, she removed her hand from his, and lifted her purse to her shoulder. They stood staring at each other. Well, she stared up and he stared down. With her flat sparkly sandals, she was at least a foot shorter than him. Almost like a foot and a half. He was so tall. And muscular. A wall of sizzling hot body is what Claire would call him.
She swallowed.
“So. I’m here.”
“Yes. You are,” he said with a breathy air that seemed almost… relieved. But, it seemed so incongruous that this playboy of an artist would have even given two thoughts to whether she showed up or not. And yet, he’d called Locke a gazillion times yesterday looking for her.
She looked down and noticed he had bare feet that were nicked with little cuts all along the top. His perfectly worn jeans clung to him in all the right places, and his gray t-shirt stretched across his torso in a way that left very little to the imagination. A tattoo peeked briefly out from under his sleeve, but she couldn’t determine what it was. He turned away and lead her towards the beachfront house.
“You’re probably hungry, so we can eat first. Then I’ll show you the shop,” he said opening the front door for her.
She eased past him into the open spaced living area that continued the warm, Nantucket feel from the outside. And here were the enormous glass windows that she’d expected, but they looked out onto the ocean in a way that didn’t seem pretentious at all. She couldn’t help but be drawn to them. Even as a little girl in Seattle, she’d been drawn to the beach. She begged her parents to go every week. Once there, she’d play in the sand, look for shells, and watch the water as it moved in and out. The soothing rhythm of the waves as they eased back and forth were a predictable comfort. Always there. Never ceasing. She’d almost forgotten how they made her feel. It made her miss her parents more than she had in a long time.
Her body tingled in response to Seth’s approach. He didn’t say anything as they both stared out at the ocean sparkling in the afternoon sun.
“Your place is stunning,” PJ finally told him, fighting for a calm in her voice that her nerves were far from feeling.
“Thanks. It’s home.”
She was surprised by the break of emotion in his voice that said more than anything how attached to this place he was. He kept surprising her with these unexpected glimpses of the depth of him. And she realized, she was judging him before knowing him, which really wasn’t like her. She hated it when people did it to her because of her size.
He hadn’t always lived here. She’d read the bio. He’d grown up on the wrong side of the Bronx with a drug addict mother and an abusive father who’d been in a New York gang. His only sanity had been his grandparents that lived in Tennessee. They’d paid for his time at Otis College here in L.A. But that was pretty much all she knew.
“What would you like to drink? I don’t have any wine, but I do make a mean sweet tea. Or lemonade?”
He moved into the kitchen and she followed him. Ther
e she found more surprises in a kitchen that had the odor and appearance of being well used. Not something you’d expect of a bachelor like Seth. Yet, there was a rack of dishes drying near the sink and a pot simmering on the stove.
“Just water would be great,” she responded, a little breathless from the oxymoron that was Seth. He waved her to a barstool near the counter. She placed her bag on the marble top and had to jump to get onto the stool. It was normal for her being as short as she was, but she saw his lips twitch as if he was resisting a grin.
“I’m short,” she said it matter-of-factly with a self-deprecating shrug.
He turned to take her in. All of her. It was as if he was swallowing her whole as he did so. Like she was just a grain of sand being swallowed by the waves outside.
“You’re perfect.” His deep voice seemed to catch with emotion again.
She blushed. She couldn’t help it.
“You’re quite the kiss-ass,” she told him.
He didn’t respond, but his gaze never left hers as he slid the water to her. When their hands touched briefly, she had to force herself not to jerk back. His eyes acknowledged her slight movement, and he withdrew slowly. As if afraid that she might run. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t.
He turned back to the stove and stirred.
“That smells really good,” she told him.
“It’s ajiaco,” he said.
“Where did you pick it up?”
He waved a hand up to the ceiling. “Don’t send the lightning bolts yet abuela, she doesn’t know. Forgive her.”
“Excuse me?”
“My grandma is spitting down on you from heaven at the idea that I would pay anyone to make my ajiaco.”
“You’re trying to tell me you made that?”
He gave a cocky grin that was both fascinating and alarming at the same time.
“From my abuela’s special recipe. The bread, however, I picked up at the bakery down the road. Me and yeast breads do not get along.” He was laughing at himself at the same time he was bragging, and it somehow relaxed her for the first time since walking through the door.
