by Natasha Boyd
The moon was full, so although I couldn’t see stars clearly, it cast such a strong white glow I could make out every bush and tree and person sitting with his back against my door. I jumped and did a double take. Yep, there was definitely a person sitting there, head down, cradling a six-pack of beer. I’d know that glossy dark hair anywhere. Jack. My heart sped up in spite of myself.
“Jack?”
He started, sending the bottles clattering off his lap. “Shit!”
I stuck a foot out to stop the bottle nearest me and bent to help as he picked them up.
“Sorry,” he said. He sounded tired. He looked tired too from what little I could see. Like he had fallen asleep.
“It’s fine. What are you doing out here?”
“I, uh,” he looked around. “I guess I just got bored and was going to see what you thought of the walls.” He got to his feet, brushing off his dark jeans.
“The walls,” I repeated. I had spent every second of the day thinking of him alone in my house supposedly working on stripping the wallpaper. However, it wouldn’t hurt to at least pretend he wasn’t the first thing on my mind. And having him right here when I got home did strange little jiggy things low in my belly.
“Right. Well, let me have a look.” I stepped past him, breathing in his showered scent surreptitiously. Something fresh and outdoorsy I couldn’t quite put my finger on. My light-headed reaction to the scent was annoying.
I walked in the back door ahead of him, turned on the lights, and put my purse down on the counter.
“You want a beer?” he asked. “I found some at the beach house. They’re cold.”
I turned and looked at him. He was a little flushed from sleep, making his green eyes all the more startling. He must have been out there a while. “A beer?”
He nodded, putting the box on the counter.
“Are you ok?” I asked him, even though I was the one who kept repeating words back to him.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He ran both hands through his hair leaving it standing up. How did he do that? “I just, I can’t be with myself at the moment.”
I turned to the counter and grabbed two bottles, unsure of what he meant. I handed him one and twisted my cap off.
We raised our bottles and clinked necks.
He smiled and took a sip.
I wondered if, in his Hollywood life, Jack Eversea had ever had to really just enjoy his own company. I didn’t want to become his therapist, but if we were going to have this sort of strange trade-for-services friendship, I guessed I could be a shoulder to lean on. Of course, that would make me the sad lovelorn ‘good friend’ at the end of this, but I could hardly see it ending any differently at this point. I might as well discover a little more about Jack in the process.
“I’m guessing you don’t have to be on your own a lot?” I tried.
“I’m sure that’s pretty obvious, but what no one tells you is how isolating it can be to be surrounded with people all the time.” He took another sip. “I know that sounds weird, but it’s like, when you are surrounded by things and people and requirements all day long, you stop thinking for yourself. You become automated. Just doing what’s required, when it’s required. And you forget who you are inside all that and how you feel and what you like to do and how you would react.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles. “And then, suddenly, when you get away from it for just a moment, it’s like you are in this big drowning vacuum of nothingness. There’s no you. There’s no one telling you how to be you or what to do, it’s just you, except there’s no you anymore.”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. “So you don’t trust who you are inside anymore?” I surmised.
“Exactly,” he said.
I felt stupidly pleased I’d said the right thing.
He went on, “You can’t see what you want, what you feel, whether you’re any good at what you are doing. You suddenly feel like you need the fame, the attention, because it’s the only thing that’s telling you that you are any good. But then you wonder, it’s all just bullshit anyway, right? It’s not you and your talent, it’s your luck. It’s the fans and their whims. It’s the money on the deals, the franchise. They spin the story, create your life, and if they take it away then you’re nothing. You don’t exist.”
Whoa.
He stalked across the room and grabbed a kitchen chair, straddling it backward. His forearms rested over the top, the bottle dangling from his fingertips. Forearms were a really big turn on for me, apparently.
I hadn’t moved while he talked. In all honesty, I had no response. I could see what he was saying. The emptiness was written all over his face, the void dark in his eyes. I saw parts of him in our few brief encounters, like now, that were incongruous with famous Jack. I wondered for a moment if he had any vices he used to deal with that void and emptiness he could feel inside him.
“God, listen to me. Don’t I sound like the pathetic schmuck? Spoiled movie-star complaining about his life, to you, a waitress, who’s still waiting around for her life to start.”
I flinched slightly, taken aback.
He didn’t notice.
“Well, then fuck you, Jack.”
His head snapped up.
I said it nicely, but I was irritated. “You think you don’t know yourself? Well, you sure as shit don’t know me, or anything about me, so if you could keep me out of your pity party I’d appreciate it.” I folded my arms over my chest, projecting a defiant and offended look I had perfected over the years.
How could this guy be so attractive and get on my last nerve at the same time? Wasn’t lust as blind as love? I guessed not.
Jack’s eyes narrowed a moment, then his shoulders sagged. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, right. Well, it’s late.” I shrugged like I was over the conversation. I felt bad in a way. I wanted him to be able to talk to me, but for some reason I always found myself wanting to shut it down and get him out of my space. It just felt too crowded all the time, like I couldn’t keep a sense of myself with him there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he backtracked. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m not myself.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. “You’re right. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Everyone always thinks they do. But for some reason, I want to be able to talk to you. I want to know you. You seem ... grounded I guess. And you look at me like ...”
Great. I was normal and grounding. I truly would have preferred to be magnetic or enigmatic, but I wasn’t sure what either would accomplish for me. “Like?”
“Like you don’t see me as a famous person, but just as a person.”
Surprised, I said quietly, “You are just a person.”
I stared at him and his gaze snagged my own. He seemed to be looking right into me, like he was sifting over who I was inside. I was pinned for a moment, unable to drop my eyes from his, and after a few beats his gaze wandered over my face. The air seemed to swell up around me. I bit my lip, whether in nerves or a sharp reminder of reality, I couldn’t say.
The small movement hooked his gaze and his green eyes zeroed in on my mouth.
It was too much for me. I cleared my throat, breaking the spell I was under, and taking a sip of my drink, turned away.
What kind of game was Jack playing with me? Obviously, he knew the effect he had on girls. On me. If he thought coming here tonight would help fill some of that void he was feeling, I was going to have to be seriously careful. The plain truth was, part of me wanted to be that for Jack. There was no question of how he had gotten to where he had today. Yes, he was talented. I had seen his work. I knew the nuances and depth he brought into his roles. But I was also, now, a first hand witness to his gravitational pull. He was like a bright and beautiful rogue planet. He pulled the entire galaxy into a gravitational wobble until he got close enough to suck you in and tilt your axis head over heels.
“If you say you can talk to me, ta
lk to me.” I congratulated myself on the right amount of polite interest and concern. The fact that I was keenly over-interested in everything to do with him, didn’t escape my attention. I truly wanted to know what this guy who had everything going for him was doing in my kitchen at ... I looked at the microwave clock ... midnight. “I mean, you keep saying you’re not yourself, so speak. I’m listening.”
T E N
Jack finally dropped his eyes away from me and drained the rest of his beer.
I watched his throat work down the last sip. “Sorry,” I said, suddenly wanting to take back my unburdening his soul challenge. It was way too intimate between us already. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t get it. You’re right. I mean, I get what you’re feeling, I just ... surely you must have friends you can talk to, people who are in the same boat as you?”
He shrugged. “Well, perhaps if I had felt like anyone would understand, I wouldn’t have had to go to the other side of the country to figure my shit out. Look, forget about it.” He sighed and smiled. “So, what’s the latest news from Butler Cove?”
“Hmmm. Let me see.” I laughed, relieved, and ran through some of the conversations I’d overheard this evening at work. “An alligator got stuck in a storm drain, and Sheriff Graves and the fire chief had to work together to get him loose. It drew a big crowd, not because of the alligator, but because the sheriff hasn’t spoken to the chief in seven years since the chief had an affair with the sheriff’s wife. That makes for some interesting town council meetings when decisions have to be made, I can tell you.”
Jack laughed. “So are they still together? The sheriff and his wife?”
“Oh, yes!” I said in mock outrage, hand to my heart. “She still attends church with her head held high every Sunday and refuses to admit she did it. But you can’t get away with much in a town this size.”
“You go to church?”
“Actually, no. I just hear she does. Anyway, what else? Oh, the hurricane ended up being a tropical storm, but let’s hope it stays that way so they don’t issue us an evac order. It looks like it may head past us up to Charleston, anyway.”
“I guess if they evacuate, I’ll head back to California,” he said.
The thought of him potentially leaving by the end of the week made me ridiculously depressed.
“But in the meantime, I’ve clued my assistant in about where I am so she is sending me more clothes and scripts and stuff.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know where you are?”
“I didn’t, I don’t, but that’s not really realistic, and I can trust her. I traveled with what I was wearing and what I could fit in the bike bags. And I have a mountain of scripts waiting for me.”
I could already see that Jack was not dealing with his self-imposed isolation well. He was either going to give this ‘getting away’ idea up and go back, or he was going to try and find some way to distract himself. Either way spelled devastation for me if we continued to spend time together.
I fleetingly wondered about his relationship with Audrey Lane. Was he truly heartbroken, or was it all just an ill-thought out excuse to explain his obviously out of the norm behavior? If he was going to stay and try to distract himself, I wouldn’t be doing either of us any favors by letting on that I was crushing on him, especially if I was not only just a distraction, but also playing seconds to his girlfriend. I liked to think I thought a little more of myself, but I hated that, for a moment, I wondered what it would be like.
The thought of the rejection when it came, as it inevitably would, whether by him politely ignoring my desperate crush or by him leaving, was a cold shower on my thoughts.
The truth was, I was lonely, too. I was still a young teenager at heart who had had to grow up way too fast. There’d been no time for whispering and giggling over boys and having my mom do my hair for the prom or to ask about dating. That had all been lost to me too early. I had loved Nana so much, but in the end it was me taking care of her and not the other way around. I hadn’t had my giddy, angsty, hormone-filled teenage-hood that I always seemed to read so much about, despite Jazz’s efforts to get me out of my shell. Perhaps if I had, I would be better equipped to deal with all the tangled emotions I felt in this situation with Jack.
I couldn’t even look at it objectively, because he wasn’t just a boy. He was a dazzling, heart-stopping aura of a man who in just five days had me feeling like I was perched on the edge of a precipice and seriously contemplating throwing myself over the edge. The idea was terrifying in its finality and in its inevitability.
He broke the silence.
“So, go check out the walls, let me know what you think.”
Ah yes. The walls.
Leaving my beer behind, I stepped into the hall.
I looked around me. It was amazing. The plain pine floors and bare walls were suddenly swollen with the promise of what the house could become. I could see it so clearly. Dark wood floors with wide white moldings and high ceilings against pale dusty blue walls.
“I saw the chandelier project you’re working on.” Jack’s voice came from behind me. “I thought it would be amazing in here.” He was referring to my hobby of collecting old wrought iron, driftwood and sea glass. I had, indeed, been working on fashioning one into a chandelier of sorts thinking to put it in my room or a library room, if I ever converted the parlor. I thought of him seeing all my stuff and unfinished projects in the attic that I had left neglected for too long and felt a moment of embarrassment. Jazz was forever nagging me about it, telling me to bring my pieces to the store. I didn’t know what held me back.
I was hyper-aware of Jack standing behind me, but I had to be imagining he was so close. I swore I felt a zap of energy from his body along the length of mine. Closing my eyes instead of answering him, I wondered if I turned around right now, whether his proximity would be all in my head. And then I felt it, his breath against the back of my neck. I swallowed hard. He slowly inhaled the air around my nape, and the fine hairs stirred to stand on end.
“What is it about you, Keri Ann?” The words were thick and quiet. Lacking the lightness of a whisper, they plummeted down through my body like an anchor. I shivered and willed myself to know what to do. Yes, what was it about me? This normal girl from a normal place, having this extraordinary moment with no hope or means of navigating this unchartered water.
I realized in that moment it didn’t matter. I’d never had a choice. The circumstances of my life meant nothing could have prepared me for the entrance of Jack Eversea into my world. This was his show to run. His moment to live or leave, and he had chosen to be in my house and my life for this brief span of time. He could have gone anywhere. Perhaps, he would have been better off bumping into a person more sure of herself, or more jaded. Maybe another girl, a girl with a tiny bit more experience than I had would have thrown herself into his arms hoping to make him forget his troubles or hers for a little while, taking what she could get and having light-hearted fun while she was at it. But I was just me. I was also, at this particular moment, incapable of moving or responding. Or breathing for that matter.
“Turn around, Keri Ann,” Jack said, softly.
I finally let my breath go and turned. My eyes collided with the place where his neck met his dark sage green t-shirt. His skin was beautiful. Flawless even, save for the smattering of dark stubble shadowing his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he smelled ... amazing. Like pine and waterfalls.
The walls were too close in the hall. There was little room to step back. Even though my reflex was to create space between us, he stepped in time with me and my back instantly pressed against the wall.
Was this really happening?
How had we gone from light-hearted banter in the kitchen to this? I was confused and lightheaded all at once. My God, was there enough space in the universe to breathe?
I was aware of his one hand caging me in as his other came up to my face. His skin was warm and slightly ro
ugh, his palms callused in a way that belied a life of script reading and spoke more to his true nature. Jack was touching my face. I closed my eyes like if I didn’t look up at him, didn’t make eye contact, this wouldn’t be really happening.
“Please.” My voice sounded strange. I didn’t know what I was asking for. A reprieve maybe, time to process what I was feeling. I had never in my life felt the currents that were coiling up inside me, gathering into ever sharpening spears. I had never expected to feel this way either and certainly had no idea it could feel so amazing and so terrifying all at once.
He slowly tilted my chin up.
“Please what?” he asked as I opened my eyes to his intense stare. His gaze was earnest and questioning and held none of the arrogance I was expecting to glimpse.
My tongue snuck out to moisten my lips just as his thumb slid gently across them. The contact was electrifying.
I froze.
Jack groaned. “Christ,” he managed, his eyes squeezing shut and his forehead creasing, as if in pain.
“I ...” I cleared my throat. “I... please don’t. Please don’t kiss me.”
E L E V E N
Please don’t kiss me?
Jack’s eyes snapped open. I glimpsed confusion for a split second as the words, my ridiculously uttered words, rang out in the silence around us. I wanted to pull them back in so badly. I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted his lips on mine, I wanted to know what he tasted like, what his tongue felt like, what his mouth would do when fused with mine. Whether he kissed fast or slow, hard or soft. If he was hot or cool. It suddenly became imperative to know that beyond anything else. I gritted my teeth wishing back the words of my rejection just as he pushed abruptly away from me.
I gasped.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He blew out a breath and raked his hand, that same hand that had been cradling my face moments before, through his hair. “I thought... shit, I don’t know what I thought. Sorry, Ok? I just seem to be fucking up with you all around, don’t I?” He fell back against the opposite wall putting some distance between us, his face tilted up to the ceiling.
