Jase swings open the exterior glass storm door with a huge smile on his face. “You like Star Wars?” he asks incredulously. “I like Star Wars, too.”
I look down at the vintage Return of the Jedi tee I’m wearing. “You do?” I ask. “I still have all of the Lego sets from when I was your age.” I hold the glass door open, waiting for an invitation to enter as Jase gasps in delight at our mutual fandom.
“I collect them. I have almost all of them. I have this book with all of the sets, and I check them off when I get them,” Jase rushes to explain, his face filled with excitement. “Jules thinks it’s silly. She says Legos are stupid.” He rolls his eyes, his face twisting into a look of shock.
“What?” Jules squeals.
Laughing, I switch my attention from Jase to Jules. “She does, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jules replies as she tugs her brother from the door and shoos him away. “Get out of here.”
I expect him to complain or whine at being dismissed, but instead he’s filled with excitement as he races up the stairs, calling back to us, “I’ll go get my Legos!”
“See what you did? I’ll be playing Legos for the rest of the day.” Jules laughs once we’re alone at the door.
“Sorry?” I shrug, giving her another smile and not feeling bad at all. Star Wars and Legos rule. “Hi, by the way.”
“Hi.” She shifts nervously, a slight blush covering her skin. After all the kissing we did yesterday, I’m thrown off by this side of her. Her hand moves to her hair and her face falls.
“Your brother said you just got out of the shower.” My eyes flick to her wet, tangled hair. I sense her self-consciousness, though she has no reason for it. “I should have called first. I can go.”
Jules shakes her head immediately, stepping aside. “It’s fine. Um, did you want to come in?”
I brush against her as I enter the foyer and explain my appearance on her porch. “I was driving by and thought maybe we could hang out.”
“You were driving by? Where were you heading?” She calls my bluff. There’s no logical reason for me to drive by Jules’ house; she lives in a neighborhood full of dead ends.
“Truthfully?” Shrugging, I stuff my hands into my pockets again.
“The truth is always nice,” Jules nods as I shake off my rambling thoughts.
I close the gap between us. She smells fresh and clean, like flowers and fruit. “You didn’t call me back last night.” Removing a hand from my pocket, I catch a bead of water that’s dripping off her hair with my fingertip. “I wanted to see you. Thought maybe we could go for a ride; get away to a little cornfield I know.”
She frowns. “I’m on duty today.”
“On duty?”
“Yeah.” She nods behind her. Jase appears on the staircase, talking ninety to nothing about . . . something . . . and I rock back on my heels, putting my hand back in my pocket. Jules slips back a step. “Kid brother duty.”
“Oh. I really should have called first,” I apologize for the fourth time.
“No, I’m glad you didn’t. Er, I mean, I’m glad you’re here. You can hang,” she lowers her voice as Jase’s socked feet hit the landing, “if you don’t mind a shadow.”
“I’m not a shadow.” Jase ruins his protest by bumping into Jules and thrusting a spaceship into my face. The move gives me the urge to thank my brothers for putting up with me growing up. Jase reminds me of my younger self. Star Wars obsession and all.
Plastering a smile on my face, I check out the Lego ship he’s holding up for me. I recognize it vaguely from the more recent movies. “Oh man, wow. I don’t have that one.”
“You don’t? Want to see my other sets? Can I show him, Jules, please?” he begs hopefully.
“Of course, as long as West doesn’t mind,” she turns her smiling eyes on me.
“Do you want to see all my sets? I bet I have a lot you don’t, since you’re older and don’t get them anymore.”
“What do you mean I don’t get them anymore?” I ask as Jase motions for me to follow him upstairs. Giving Jules one last look, I follow her brother as he reminds me how old I am.
“Obviously, you don’t buy Legos because you’re too old, so you can’t have all the cooler sets like I do. The new sets are way better than the old ones.”
Can’t argue with him there since I can’t recall the last time I was given Legos as a gift.
“I’m going to change really quickly, if you don’t mind hanging with Jason for a minute,” Jules calls after me.
Studying her, I shake my head. Her cropped leggings leave nothing to the imagination with the way they hug her curves, and while the simple, pink tee should clash with her fiery hair, it doesn’t. Her face is void of make-up and I’m amazed at how perfect her porcelain skin is. She really does have the most amazing skin I’ve ever seen, so smooth and soft and—damn!
I need to think of Legos before I embarrass myself physically. “You look great. Don’t change on my account.” I shift a little.
Our eyes hold each other’s, then the moment is broken by Jase shouting my name. “Excuse me. I have some Legos to inspect,” I tell her with a wink.
Jase’s room is like going back in time to mine or Austin’s. Filled with sports posters, action figures, and a Lego-covered floor, I’m propelled back to memories of hours of rainy day fun.
Unable to ignore the temptation, I throw myself onto the floor and jump right into a battle scene that Jase has spread out among his bed, floor, and a child-sized desk.
“You can be the dark side,” Jase informs me, grabbing up two Jedi-looking figures and making blaster sounds my way.
“So I’m evil, huh? Cool then,” I chuckle, shooting back at his Jedi with the troopers I find. I scan the floor in search of the best characters and smile when I come across Darth Vader, who must have been in the middle of fighting with Luke before I arrived because Jase has them on a platform with Lego fire and trees around them.
Jase laughs as his men rush mine and his voice rises higher and higher with each fake explosion, gun sound, and war cry he makes.
“Argh,” I utter a low, tortured grumble as I knock all of my storm troopers to the floor in defeat. Jase looks about to declare victory until I grab Darth and raise the little red lightsaber he’s holding in his hand.
“You will join me,” I order as I throw in two heavy breathing sounds, trying my best to mimic the movies.
Jase bursts into a fit of laughter, raising Luke’s lightsaber in return. We engage in a well-choreographed battle that the movies wished they’d had. Apparently, Darth was skilled in gymnastics; if only the movie directors knew this way back when.
“Come play, Jules.” I look up, surprised to see we’re being spied on.
Part of me feels ridiculous and wants to drop the toys, as though I have to prove I’m cooler than this. Then Jase’s laughter rings in my ears again and I simply ignore my embarrassment, smile at Jules, and pick up another man and set him next to a ship as if he’s ready for battle and as though Jules isn’t there.
“How about a snack instead? Why don’t you go make some popcorn?” Jules asks. Her voice catches and emotions run across her face. She’s trying hard not to cry. Jase notices it too and his face falls as he watches his sister, and I immediately step in to ease his worry.
“Yum! Using the force sure does make me hungry. I could really go for some popcorn,” I agree with Jules a little over-enthusiastically. Jase gives me a questioning look. Nine-year-olds aren’t easily fooled so I add some Star Wars for good measure. “Besides, you know we have to follow the Princess’s orders, young Padawan.” I raise a brow, daring him to disagree with me.
Jase laughs. “She’s not a Princess,” he scoffs, standing and dropping his Lego men.
Setting my men on the dresser next to me, I stand and look at Jules. She didn’t change her clothes or put on make-up like I’d expected her to. The only change in her appearance from when she opened the door is her slicked-back ponytai
l.
“I see a Princess,” I smile, because it’s true. Looking at Jules Blacklin causes me a physical reaction, every time.
Jase, on the other hand, isn’t as enamored. He groans and heads for the exit, mumbling. “Ewwww! I’ll be downstairs.”
Jules chuckles as she watches her brother leave the room. “We’ll be right behind you, bud. You can turn on cartoons if you want, or pick a movie.”
I listen as Jase hums the galactic theme song, hearing it as he moves down to the first floor where it fades out. I smile internally, as I’m reminded once more of my younger self, before returning my attention to Jules.
She’s standing in the doorway, and the ever present gravitational pull constantly calling me to her goes into effect. I move behind her, a new scent tickling my nose and making me grin. She might not have gussied up herself with makeup and fancy clothing, but she absolutely made sure she smelled good. As if she doesn’t always smell incredible.
“Thanks for that,” she whispers once the sounds of Jase are gone.
“For what?” I ask from directly behind her. She flinches, evidently not expecting me to be so close. She spins around, wrapping her arms around me and tucking her head into my chest, but not before I spy the shimmer of tears on her cheeks.
“For playing with him. He’s had a hard time getting over the tornado, and I haven’t seen him truly laugh that way since it happened.”
Rubbing the back of her neck with my thumb, I hug her closely. “Then I’m happy I came by, if only for him,” I tell her, and it’s true.
If I had to leave right now I wouldn’t care because knowing I made her brother smile makes me content. She says he’s had a hard time dealing with the storm and I can only imagine what it must be like for a kid his age to process these things. His sister was trapped, her best friend died, much of the city is a mess. Children are resilient, but it doesn’t mean lasting impressions aren’t being made.
“You’re totally going to lose your bad boy reputation, Rutledge,” Jules teases into my shirt.
“Do I have one?”
“You did, but I’m wondering if it was all part of some elaborate ruse.”
“Reputations often are.”
She tilts her head, looking up through wet lashes at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I fell asleep, if you can believe that.”
“I thought maybe you changed your mind,” I confess.
“Changed my mind? About what? You and I? Why in the world would you think that?” She stretches up, pressing a kiss to my chin. She’s so tiny compared to me, her head fitting perfectly under my chin whenever I hug her.
“I keep thinking you’re going to get your memory back from before the tornado.”
“Huh?”
I’m stunned myself. It’s as though my subconscious is coming through and saying things my brain hasn’t considered, and I realize I really am worried about her changing her mind. “I know; I’m crazy, right? I don’t know if I could handle it, Jules. You’re not going to wake up and be all ‘Dude, I love Stuart! What am I doing with this loser?’”
“Dude? What the hell? First, I have all of my memory from before the tornado and I’m not changing my mind. Second, don’t call my boyfriend a loser, you loser,” she growls, kicking the toe of my shoes with her bare foot.
My lips curl into a smug smile. “Your boyfriend, huh?”
“Yeah, my boyfriend. Didn’t we just agree to this last night? Or are you already leaving me? Is that part of your bad boy charm—love ‘em and leave ‘em?”
Jules grimaces, looking away as though she’s said something wrong, and I skim her cheek before tipping her jaw up.
“I told you, gorgeous, I’m not leaving. As for love, well I’ve never been there with another girl,” I admit, liking the sound of the word on my tongue. Love.
Jules looks doubtful. “You haven’t? Not even with Carley Raine?”
“Nope. Not even Carley. She was fun, but she wasn’t love.”
“And what about me? Am I just fun?”
Her question makes me inexplicable angry. Tightening my arm around her back, I answer her a little sharper than I intend. “You, Jules Blacklin, are not for fun. You are—” I swallow hard, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Never mind, I was playing,” Jules rushes her apology, her hands resting on my chest.
In less than two weeks I’ve become so attuned to her facial expressions and tone that I know when she’s lying. She might say she’s playing, but somewhere inside she is obviously worried about the player West. I see it in the way her eyes shift nervously. I want her to know where she stands. No second guessing between us anymore. I might have trouble with insecurities and thinking she’ll leave me any day to go back to Douche Canoe Stuart, but I don’t want her to second guess my intentions.
I steal a kiss and explain. “No, you should know. You’re not for fun. You might even be love.” I step back, rubbing my hands over my face and into my hair. “I think, or at least I’m pretty sure, I could fall in love with you. Does that scare the crap out of you?”
Everything stops as I wait for her to process what I’ve said. Spilling your heart out isn’t for the weak, but when Jules grabs my face and forces my eyes to meet hers, I know the years I may have taken off my life are worth it.
“The only thing that scares me right now is that I feel the same way,” Jules admits, steering my face down to hers. “This is crazy,” she murmurs against my lips.
“But real,” I smile, as though I have to prove to myself that it is, in fact, real.
“Perfectly real,” she agrees with another kiss.
My hand finds its way to her backside as our lips tease each other. Jules doesn’t laugh this time as my fingers dig into her rear, pulling her closer to me. Her yoga pants are more like second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination and kicking up my libido. Five more minutes and her brother is bound to see something only appropriate in R-rated movies. I let go of her butt, as much as it pains me.
“Do I get to see your room?” I ask, not wanting to be an exhibitionist for a nine-year-old.
Twisting in my arms, Jules tugs at the end of my shirt and pulls me to the entrance of her bedroom. Her unmade bed beckons me with the fluffy comforter and mound of pillows, but I resist the urge to drag her there.
This relationship is real; we just established that. Real is more than the physical stuff. Working hard to forget the need in my pants and the bed, I look around her room and take in everything that makes up this girl standing before me.
Her bookshelves are filled with mementos of a charmed life, there are stuffed animals in the corner chair, large boards are covered in pictures of people I know from school; these things are Jules. With the exception of an overturned laundry basket sitting near the door, the room is spotless. I’m not surprised.
I move into the room to get a closer look at the pictures on her walls and spot a stack of snapshots piled on her desk. Curious, I pick up the one on top and smile when I see what it’s of.
“I’ve never seen these.” I tell her as I shuffle through the candid shots from a middle school football/cheerleader yearend pool party. Memories wash over me as I take in the faces of my past, including my own. “Man, we look so young.”
“We were young.”
“I would do so many things differently if I could go back to those days,” I confess. “So many things.”
The what ifs threaten to overwhelm me; regret sucks. A heavy pall hangs over the room as I flip through the shots. I’m mesmerized by a shot of my younger self—my thick wavy hair completely out of control back then—smiling broadly for the camera with my arms slung around the necks of friends. This was the end of sixth grade, shortly before my mom was diagnosed with cancer and the last summer I spent as a carefree boy.
“Jules! No boys in your room!” Jase’s voice screams from downstairs.
Jules’ light touch on my back releases me from the past and I drop the pictures to the desk and whirl arou
nd on her with a smile, grabbing her waist.
“Come on, cheerleader. No boys allowed in your room,” I tease, casting away my heavy thoughts. West Rutledge, master of subject change.
In honor of the ‘no boys in your room’ rule, we spend the day with Jase wedged between us, watching Star Wars movies and pigging out. Jase falls asleep between us near the end of movie four and my arm stretches over the back of the couch to touch Jules’ head. I tease my fingers through her hair as I attempt to concentrate on the action.
I spend the remainder of the film watching Jules. My eyes ache from the covert staring, but it’s worth it. She’s beautiful. She sends me small smiles every once in a while, letting me know she’s as aware of me as I am of her.
When the movie ends, I help carry Jase to his room and watch as she covers her little brother tenderly. We maneuver the Lego minefield that is his floor in the dim light as we leave his room.
“You’re a good big sister,” I tell her as the door clicks closed.
“I was an only child for so long. He was always like a baby doll to me growing up.”
“Must be a girl thing, I was a punching bag to my brothers.”
Jules chuckles and I take her hand, pulling her away from her brother’s door. For a fleeting moment I consider pulling her into her room and testing out the softness of her bed, but I think better of it. That’s not the impression I want to make on her parents should they arrive home unexpectedly.
Either she’s a mind reader or she sees the indecision in my eyes because she sighs and directs us toward the staircase. “It’s close to ten. You should probably go before my parents come home.”
I nod and allow her to walk me to the front door.
“I’m not worried about meeting them as your boyfriend, you know. I don’t want you to worry about me,” I tell her with a smile. I’m not really a meet-the-parents type of guy, but I can be. For her, I will be.
“I know. It’s just—I told my mom there was something between us, but—I don’t know. I guess I feel like I should tell them we’re seeing each other before they walk in on us,” she explains. I can’t stop feeling a bit suspicious of her explanation, as though she doesn’t want to fess up to being with me. West Rutledge—the quitter and screw up.
West Page 20
