by Carrie Elks
‘I suppose I should go, then. I have classes this afternoon.’
He found himself tightening his grasp on her hand, as though to stop her. ‘We need to talk about that internship,’ he told her, finally catching her eye.
‘Oh, I thought that was just an excuse to talk,’ she said, frowning. ‘Honestly, you don’t need to help me. You don’t owe me anything.’
He wanted to laugh at her innocence. She thought he owed her nothing? Jesus, he owed her everything. He’d been a shell of a man when she met him, it was thanks to her that somehow he was coming back to life.
‘I saw your showreel,’ he told her. ‘Your supervisor sent me a copy. It’s damned good. You have talent, you know that, right?’
Her breath caught in her throat. All that time she’d been watching those YouTube videos, he’d been watching her work, too. She wondered if he’d been as obsessive as she was, if he’d watched it over and over again.
‘You really liked it?’
He nodded. ‘I did.’ His voice was soft. ‘It was unique, I could tell you were the one who made it.’
She licked her lips. They were suddenly dry, in spite of the coffee. ‘Well thank you. That means a lot.’
‘It means you deserve to get an internship. Let me help you.’
‘You can’t. Every time I have an interview I freeze. I might look good on celluloid, but in person I mess it up.’
His smile was sympathetic. ‘Then let your work speak for itself. Let me help you. There’s this project I know about, you’d be perfect for it.’
She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t work for you, it wouldn’t feel right.’
He tried not to show how much of a kick in the gut that was. ‘You wouldn’t be working with me. I wouldn’t ask that of you.’
‘Then who?’
‘Are you free tomorrow morning?’ he asked. ‘I’ll bring you over to meet him. He’s got a project ready to go. You’d be perfect for it.’
‘Are you sure it’s not you?’ She looked suspicious.
‘Would it be so terrible if it was?’
It was her turn to look down at their hands. When she looked back up at him she seemed confused. Her eyes were full of questions. ‘I can’t work for somebody who doesn’t trust me.’
Was she only talking about work? Adam wasn’t sure. ‘I trust you.’ His voice was resolute. ‘I don’t think there’s a single person in the world I trust more than you.’
She blinked, as though the light was blinding her eyes. ‘You do?’ She bit her bottom lip.
‘Yes, I do. So will you do me a favour and meet me tomorrow?’ Reluctantly, he released her hand and grabbed a card from his pocket, scribbling an address on there. ‘I’ll be here at eleven o’clock.’ He looked up at her. ‘I hope you will too.’
He slid the card across to her, and she scooped it up, lifting it to her eyes. She frowned again, reading his words. ‘But this is —’
‘I know.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope.’
And if she didn’t turn up, what then?
His heart ached as he watched her retreating back. He’d let her walk away from him once before. He wasn’t planning on making that same mistake twice.
34
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
– As You Like It
When she walked through the door to her apartment later that evening, the place was in chaos. She’d barely kicked her shoes off before Sorcha barrelled past her, mumbling about being late for her job at a nightclub in downtown LA. Anais was running between the bathroom and her bedroom like a pinball, shouting out that she couldn’t find her earrings, her purse, her credit card. That left Sia, who was sitting quietly in the living room, already dressed for wherever she was planning to go that night.
‘You’re late,’ Sia observed, looking up at Kitty. ‘Are you back to working at the restaurant again?’
‘No, I was hanging out at the library.’
Sia grinned. ‘You know how to live life on the edge.’
‘Why’s Anais so crazy tonight?’ Kitty asked, as the girl started screaming about her heel being scuffed. Not that Anais was ever completely calm. Kitty had become used to the dramatics, living with three wannabe actresses. It wasn’t completely different to living with her three sisters.
‘There’s a party tonight. Rumour is that a few big names are going to be there. Anais’s boyfriend reckons he can get us on the guest list. You should come.’
Kitty wrinkled her nose. The last thing she wanted to do was go to some bullshit evening and make small talk for hours with people who preferred staring at themselves in the mirrored glass walls than actually look at you while you spoke. ‘I think I’ll just stay here.’
‘It could be good for you,’ Sia pointed out. ‘There’re bound to be producers there, you could ask them about that internship.’
It was on the tip of Kitty’s tongue to tell her she had an interview for one tomorrow. But that would only lead to more questions. It was hard enough fending off her sisters’ interest, she couldn’t face having to do the same in her own home.
After the three of them left – Sorcha climbing into her car and heading for the club, while Anais and Sia were picked up by Anais’s boyfriend – Kitty collapsed on the sofa, pushing a pile of rejected dresses to the side. From the looks of them they had to be Anais’s, but the girls all borrowed each other’s clothes. Who knew their origins really? She’d never been part of their crowd. They were kind, but while she spent all day on campus, they were bonding over failed auditions and budding relationships. Even here Kitty was the odd one out. The story of her life.
It was barely eight. The evening stretched in front of her like an unwanted interval – a long, lonely gap that she didn’t really know how to fill. She shoved a ready-meal in the microwave and then pushed it around with a fork for a while, before scraping the contents down the waste disposal and turning it on with a satisfying crunch. She managed to fill another twenty minutes by sorting out her portfolio ready for tomorrow, in case she decided to actually go to the place. Then she looked at the card again, at the address Adam had scribbled on it.
Who was she fooling? Of course she was going to go. Even if it was just to make a fool out of herself.
She even thought about killing time with a bath, but one look at the devastation Anais had left in her wake made her think again. She could barely get in the bathroom to clean her teeth and wash her face. Her shower would have to wait until morning.
When she looked at her watch it wasn’t even nine o’clock. Without anything to take her mind off things, she found her thoughts drifting to Adam. Again. Analysing everything he said, every movement he made, remembering the way he’d pressed his hand into the small of her back as they walked across campus to the library. What had he meant by that? She wanted to call one of her sisters to dissect that afternoon’s events, but she was afraid.
Afraid they’d tell her she was reading too much into it. It was as if a tiny flame of hope had been relit inside her, buffeted on all sides by a wind that she couldn’t stop. The best she could do was protect it, cup her hands around it, and hope that somehow the flame wouldn’t be extinguished.
After pacing around the apartment for ten minutes, she stripped her clothes off and climbed into her pyjamas, determined to get an early night. At least if she was asleep she wouldn’t be obsessing over every word he’d said in the lecture theatre, or the way his face had looked when he’d told her about his experiences in Colombia.
But even in bed she was way too jittery to relax. She jumped out and grabbed her laptop, climbing back on the mattress to balance it on her knee. Then she called up the old familiar page – the one that would have been worn out by now if it wasn’t virtual – and pressed play on the video she’d already watched too many times.
There he was, in full screen glory. His hair styled, his face freshly shaven, looking exactly like the man who’d stood at the front of the lecture theatre and engaged tw
o hundred students with little more than a good story and a lot of charm.
The same way he’d engaged her in West Virginia. Except back then he’d been less than charming, and definitely not clean-shaven. And yet beneath it all he was one and the same. A man who saw a child being shot in front of him, and carried the blame like a heavy weight. A man who had been hurt by those who were supposed to love him. A man who had somehow found his way into her heart.
She pushed the laptop screen down, leaning back against the padded headrest, her eyes squeezed shut. For a moment she allowed herself to indulge in all those questions that had been shooting around her mind ever since he’d walked into the lecture theatre. Why was he there? What did it mean? Was he simply trying to make amends for the way he’d treated her, or did he want something more?
Was it normal for a guy to fly all this way just to say sorry? Was he planning to leave after the meeting tomorrow?
She clenched her fists, feeling the frustration washing over her. She couldn’t just lie here wondering what the hell was going on. She needed to talk to him.
And she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Sliding the laptop onto her bedside table, she climbed out of bed and walked into the living room, grabbing her phone and the business card he’d left for her. It had his number on – something she’d never thought of asking for back when they’d been holed up in his cabin. She hadn’t needed it, all she’d had to do to talk to him was follow that winding, snowy path through the forest. And when she’d left under that dark, dismal cloud, the last thing she’d thought to ask was if she could call him.
She could feel the anxiety build in her chest as she pressed the numbers into her phone, sliding her eyes between the card and her screen to make sure she had the right ones.
Just as she pressed to call, there was a buzz from the intercom. Damn. She hung up, rolling her eyes at the interruption, and walked over to the speaker. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Adam.’
She froze for a moment. Then when she tried to form a word her mouth opened and closed like a mute fish. Finally, she found enough breath to force it out. ‘Hi.’ Yep, that was one for the history books. Way to go, Kitty.
‘Are you there?’
Shit, she’d forgotten to press the button. ‘Yeah, I’m still here.’
‘I thought you’d run out on me again.’ The warmth in his voice made her heart pound.
‘No, I’m still here,’ she repeated. She sounded about as exciting as Dory right then.
‘Can you buzz me in? I just wanted to talk to you about something.’
Alarmed, Kitty looked down at her pyjamas. Not the fluffy sheep ones she’d worn in West Virginia, but equally stupid. There were a joke gift from Cesca – red and white love-heart shorts, with a top that said ‘Gangsta Napper’. Not exactly the cool, sophisticated look she would have liked.
‘I’m in my pyjamas,’ she told him.
‘At nine o’clock?’
She could just imagine the perplexed expression on his face. ‘That’s how I roll.’
‘Well it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’ Was he smiling? She hoped he was. ‘But I promise not to drag you out on a Skidoo this time.’
Was it wrong to feel disappointed at that? ‘OK, come on up. We’re the last door on the third floor.’ She pressed the button to release the front door. Then as she turned from the intercom, a sense of horror washed over her as she saw what a mess the apartment was. Clothes everywhere, a pile of underwear on the kitchen counter – clean she hoped – and dishes stacked in the sink that had been ignored for days. And the bathroom was even worse, it looked as though a bomb had hit it. The only room in the whole apartment that wasn’t in a state of complete disarray was her bedroom.
No, that wasn’t happening. Definitely not.
How long did it take to walk up the three flights of stairs to their level? Not enough time, with Adam’s sure, long strides. Damn him and his muscles. There was no possible way of tidying all this away before —
There was a knock. Strong, sure. Just like him. She could feel her heart start to pound again, like it was banging on her ribcage to be let out. Swallowing down her nerves, she walked in her bare feet over to the door and slowly opened it.
There he was, in full-size glory. The man she’d been obsessing about ever since she’d arrived back in LA. He was more casual than he had been earlier – wearing jeans and a black cotton Henley that emphasised the planes of his chest. As she dragged her eyes up to look at his face – damn that gorgeous face – she could see he was checking out her clothes, too.
‘Gangster Napper?’ he questioned, raising one eyebrow. ‘It suits you.’ Then his eyes slid down to her shorts and her long, thankfully waxed, legs, and she wondered what emotion she could see flashing behind his eyes.
‘Come in,’ she said, stepping aside to let him past. ‘You’ll have to excuse the mess. My room-mates don’t understand the concept of tidy as you go.’
Every time he stood in front of her, she found herself surprised by his height, by his strength, by the way he commanded a room. He was looking around, no doubt taking in the cramped living room, the threadbare sofas, the clothes that seemed to be everywhere. His lip quirked up when he saw the pile of underwear by the kitchen.
‘They’re not mine,’ she told him hastily. ‘None of this is my mess.’
His smile got wider.
Hastily she changed the subject. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘I’m good.’ He was still smiling. He looked so different without a beard covering his face.
‘I’m still getting used to you being clean-shaven,’ she told him, as much to fill the silence as anything.
‘Don’t you like it?’ He rubbed his thumb along his jaw.
‘It’s not that I don’t like it,’ she told him, watching as his thumb slid smoothly along his skin. ‘It’s more that you look so different than the Adam I got to know.’ She licked her lips, still staring at his face. ‘Can I touch it?’
Was it possible to feel any more embarrassed? Why the hell did she ask that?
‘Sure, go ahead.’
She took a deep breath, the air rushing into her dry mouth as she lifted her shaking hand until her fingers were almost touching his jaw. Adam closed his eyes, his lips pursing together as she brushed the pads of her fingers on his soft, smooth skin, blowing out a mouthful of air as she stroked him, her fingers moving further up, past his lips, his cheek, his eyes. Then her hand was in his hair, feeling the cropped strands tickle her palm. His eyelids flew open and he was staring at her, his gaze hot and intense.
‘Please don’t play with me,’ he said, his voice rough.
‘I’m not playing,’ she whispered.
He covered her hand with his, pressing her palm hard against him, closing his eyes once again. ‘Do you know how often I’ve dreamed of this?’ he asked her. ‘Of you touching me, holding me, looking at me the way you are right now?’
She knew because she’d been dreaming of it, too. Half of her felt as though she might be dreaming still.
Then he was cupping her jaw with his hand, the warmth of his palm searing her skin. ‘Did I mess everything up that day?’ he asked urgently. ‘Did I put you off ever wanting to be with me?’
His eyes were searching hers, looking for answers. Her chest felt constricted as he caressed her face with his thumb, softly stroking as he waited for her reply.
‘You didn’t mess anything up,’ she whispered. ‘I managed to do it all by myself.’ As usual. He was silent, his lips slightly parted as he took in short breaths. ‘And even if you did, you could never put me off. You’re all I’ve been thinking about. I’ve watched every damn interview I could find with you on YouTube. I’ve been watching your documentaries over and over again just so I don’t feel alone.’
A slow smile broke out on his face. ‘You’ve been watching me?’
‘Apart from my school work, I haven’t been doing much else.’
‘Why didn�
�t you call me?’ he asked her.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ She tipped her head to the side, pushing against his palm.
‘Because I’m a fool,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘Because I was afraid you wouldn’t want me. I needed to make things right first, be the man I need to be. One worthy of you.’
‘Is that what this is about?’ she asked, touching his jaw again. ‘Is that why you shaved?’
‘Partly,’ he said. ‘And partly because I was sick of looking like a hermit. I wallowed for way too long. After you left I took a long damn look at myself in the mirror, and I didn’t like what I saw.’
‘You’re being too hard on yourself. I always liked what I saw.’
