Cut Free (The Sublime Book 4)

by Julia Wolf

  Alex stayed close to me, periodically brushing my shoulder or my elbow with his fingertips, which I found I didn’t mind at all. He was much taller than me, well over six feet, with a lean, muscular frame. His brown hair was shaggy and messy and even though the stylist in me wanted to give it a good trim, I found myself feeling the first buzz of attraction toward him.

  “So, you’re a musician?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far. I play piano,” I said.

  “Don’t be modest!” Rachel said. “Eliza’s playing at our wedding. You’ll get to see her do her thing.”

  Alex smiled. “I look forward to it.”

  “What about you? Play any instruments?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I don’t have a musical bone in my body. I love music and going to live shows, but I’ve never played an instrument and my voice is pretty much a horror show.”

  “I’ve met people who said they weren’t really into music. Those people I will never understand.”

  “No, me neither,” Alex agreed.

  Without meaning to, I found myself comparing Alex to Charlie. One of my favorite parts of my relationship with Charlie was our musical bond. I loved that we could get lost together when we played.

  But Charlie wasn’t my date, so that didn’t matter.

  Alex was here. Being a musician wasn’t a prerequisite. And Alex was lovely.

  “Do you know who the band is tonight?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, they’re called Four Chairs.”

  I snorted. “Creative.”

  He laughed lightly. “I saw them a couple years ago with my ex-girlfriend. They’re kind of…”

  I raised a brow. “What?”

  “Uh, chick music.” He had enough self-awareness to cringe at his own words.

  “Oh,” was all I said.

  Oh boy.

  I told myself not to write him off because of one slightly sexist comment.

  Rachel smiled at someone behind me. “Hey!” she called.

  I turned around to see Charlie walking slowly toward us, hands tucked in his worn jeans pockets like always, his focus on Rachel and Joe.

  After he greeted them, he finally turned toward us, although he didn’t meet my eyes.

  “What’s up, man? I’m Charlie.” He and Alex shook hands, and then Alex rested his hand on the small of my back, pulling me slightly closer to him.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Alex, and this is Eliza.”

  Charlie finally met my eyes, and I could see the eyeroll he was barely holding back.

  “Actually, Charlie and I are good friends,” I told Alex. “We’re training for a marathon together.”

  “Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize. That’s cool, the more the merrier, as they say,” Alex said, giving Charlie another friendly smile.

  Charlie gave me an indecipherable look, then turned to talk to Rachel and Joe, effectively shutting Alex and me out of the conversation.

  Alex kept his hand on my back, rubbing his thumb slowly over the bare skin there, and I couldn’t quite decide if I liked it or not. I also couldn’t quite decide what Charlie’s deal was. There was a definite weirdness between us that I really wished wasn’t there.

  “So, you’re a runner?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah, but this will be my first marathon. I’m getting nervous. Do you run?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, not my thing.”

  “Oh, well, it’s definitely my thing.”

  “Cool, cool,” he said.

  I was at a loss for what to say next. Thankfully, the band took the stage then, giving us both a break. I was immediately entranced when I saw the pianist take her seat, followed by a harpist, cellist, and violinist. I had a feeling this “chick music” was going to be for me.

  An ethereal-looking black woman wearing a diaphanous white dress took the stage, and without preamble, the band started playing while she stood with her eyes closed, her hands clasped in front of her. And when she sang, I almost felt like I was dreaming. Her voice was angelic and sweet, but powerful and moving.

  Rachel moved next to me. “Good, right?”

  “Amazing,” I said dreamily.

  I closed my eyes and swayed to the music, forgetting Alex, forgetting Charlie, just absorbing the beautiful sounds surrounding me.

  “Do you want another beer?” Alex asked.

  “I’m good,” I said without looking at him.

  When he went to the bar, I felt Charlie take his place. I finally opened my eyes and turned toward him.

  “Hi, Charlie.”

  “You look different,” he said.

  I smoothed my hands down my sides. “This is my date look.”

  “Ah, so I wouldn’t have seen it.” He tilted his head toward the bar. “But that guy has.”

  Ignoring his comment, I asked, “Did you take care of what you needed to this morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you like this band?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” he asked.

  “Crazy people. No more talking.”

  I didn’t know how long the concert went on, I just knew when I finally opened my eyes, I felt like I’d been in a dream for a hundred years. Charlie had stayed next to me the entire time, his arm pressed against mine, and Alex was on the other side of me, mostly talking away to Joe and Rachel.

  When we all walked outside, I gave Alex a brief hug and thanked him for coming out with us.

  “Should we do this again? Maybe somewhere we can actually talk?” he asked.

  I tucked my hair behind my ear and nodded. “We should. Definitely call me.”

  He leaned down and kissed the corner of my lips. “I definitely will.”

  I knew my cheeks were pink. Not because I was head over heels for Alex, but because I could feel Charlie watching the entire exchange. And maybe because it had been entirely too long since a man had put his mouth that close to mine.

  “Can I catch a ride?” Charlie asked softly.

  “You didn’t drive?” I asked.

  “No, I Uber’d here. But I can Uber home too…”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll drive you home.”

  Once we’d said goodnight to Rachel and Joe, we walked a few blocks to where my car was parked. We were both quiet, but I could almost hear Charlie’s mind working.

  “Did you do your run today?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I went to the community center this afternoon to run on the treadmill. I have to say, it’s a lot more fun running with you.”

  I smiled. “It was quiet this morning.”

  “You only like me for my conversation,” he said.

  I held my hands up and laughed. “You got me. It’s true. I’m using you for how easy you are to talk to.” I pointed to my car. “There I am.”

  “Nice. Parallel parking?”

  “Yeah!”

  He walked the length of my car, nodding. “Impressive. I learned parallel parking for my driving test and forgot how to do it two-point-one seconds later.”

  When we got in the dark car, Charlie sighed, and asked, “You like that guy?”

  I turned to him. “He was okay, nice. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”

  “I don’t think he’s for you,” he said.

  I let out a shocked laugh. “How can you say that? You barely said two words to him!”

  “Maybe. But neither did you,” he replied.

  I shrugged and started driving. “It was loud.”

  “Not that loud.”

  “Why does it matter to you, Charlie?”

  “I want the best for you, Eliza. Only the best.”

  “That’s very sweet. I want that for you too. But I’m ready to start dating, and Alex is a nice guy, even if he isn’t my forever guy. Maybe he’ll be good practice, or maybe once I get to know him, I’ll really like him.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

  We rode quietly for a while, and I found myself once again comparing Alex to Charlie. There was no contest who I c
learly had more in common with and more chemistry with, but Alex was the one who was actually interested in me.

  Charlie was my friend. Who I liked. Like, like liked. But I knew he didn’t feel the same.

  “What came up this morning?” I asked.

  “Oh. Uh, my ex-wife texted really late last night that she needed help moving out of the place she was living in with some guy,” he said quietly.

  “I didn’t realize you were still in contact with your ex,” I said.

  “Yeah, she lives pretty close by, so I see her every once in a while. We’re much better friends. She’s a little...I guess unsettled is the right word.”

  I pulled into my parking spot behind my building.

  “I have to admit, I was kind of worried I did something wrong last night,” I said.

  Charlie looked startled. “Why would you think that? I was the one who made things weird.”

  We met at the back of my car and started walking around the building.

  “Did I not try to kiss you...again?” I asked.

  He sighed and closed his eyes for a beat. “No, you didn’t.”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “We were both drunk. Any weirdness can be blamed on that, okay?”

  He wove his fingers between mine and held my hand securely in his. “Okay, Eliza.”

  We stopped in front of my steps, still holding hands.

  “You’re not going to stand me up in the morning, are you?”

  Charlie reached out and brushed my bangs from my eyes, giving me goosebumps. “I’ll be there,” he said softly.

  I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He pulled me close, his arms around my waist, and I sighed against his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re in my life.”

  He leaned his cheek on the side of my head. “Me too. You have no idea.”

  I pulled away and smiled at him. “See you in the morning.”

  “It’s going to be painful, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Maybe, but we’ll have fun,” I said.

  “We always do. Goodnight, Eliza.” He brushed his fingers over my jaw ever so gently, then pushed me toward my stairs.

  He watched me climb the stairs and unlock my door. Turning, I waved to him one last time before gently shutting the door behind me.

  Thirteen

  Seventeen miles was no joke.

  “I’m dying,” Charlie panted, clutching his side.

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  “We have to finish, right?”

  “I think we have to,” I said.

  So we ran, together.

  The first ten miles weren’t too bad. We were following the marathon training advice of walking through the water stations, which in the real marathon would be about every mile. Still, we were both tired, slogging through the final miles.

  “Are you sure you want to run a marathon?” he asked.

  “Can’t back out now. We’ve been working too hard.” I wiped my sweaty bangs off my forehead.

  “Okay. We’ve got this.”

  I glanced at Charlie, and if I’d had more energy, I would have laughed at the look of serious determination on his face.

  “My Fitbit says one more mile,” I told him.

  He jogged a few feet. “And now it’s less than a mile.”

  “Good attitude!”

  We were slow, but we kept running. Hearing Charlie’s breaths and the sound of his feet hitting the sidewalk motivated me. Each set of thumps our shoes made brought us closer to the finish line.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, my Fitbit beeped, signaling the end of our run. I wanted to fall down on the trail, but I knew if I did, I wouldn’t have the energy to get back up.

  “Oh my god, we did it!” I whispered through heavy breathing.

  “I knew we could,” he said, his hands on his hips as he walked next to me.

  “You totally didn’t.”

  “No, I really didn’t.”

  We walked up Main Street, both sweaty messes. I wanted to shower, eat a plate of carbs, and take a long, long nap.

  “What are you doing the rest of the day?” he asked.

  “Absolutely nothing. It’s going to be glorious.”

  “Want to do nothing together?”

  “Um…”

  He laughed and tugged the end of my ponytail. “Go take a shower. Then come hang out with me.”

  I didn’t think about it before I answered. “Okay.”

  Hanging out with Charlie, doing absolutely nothing together, was the best offer I’d had all year.

  I stood under the cool water of my shower forever, letting the water slide down my twitching muscles.

  Our run had been a challenge, beyond what I’d expected. But doing it with Charlie, pulling each other along, made it almost enjoyable. Not that I still didn’t hate running, because I did. But Charlie was the best running mate, which of course led me to think about other things he might be good at as a partner.

  Charlie is my friend!

  I dressed in my comfiest tank top and drawstring shorts and grabbed two bagels out of my freezer. They were from a Baltimore Jewish deli that claimed to import water from New York to make them. The bagels were good, and I always bought enough to freeze for later, but they weren’t fooling anyone when they called them New York bagels.

  I threw the bagels, cream cheese, and a carton of orange juice in a bag and walked very slowly to Charlie’s place.

  The entrance to his apartment was like mine, up a flight of stairs on the side of the building. He opened the door when I was halfway up the stairs.

  “Why do you live on top of a mountain?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I’d offer to carry you the rest of the way up, but I think we’d both be spending the day on the stairs.”

  “I can make it,” I groaned. I really played it up, pretending to use the railing to pull myself the rest of the way.

  When I made it to the top, Charlie grinned and hugged me.

  “You made it! I was worried.”

  I looked back at the five hundred steps I’d just climbed. “It was touch and go there for a minute.”

  He laughed and led me into his apartment. In all the weeks since we’d become friends, I’d never been inside his home. I had to admit, I was more than a little curious to see where he lived.

  I was struck by how airy and bright the space was. The entryway opened into a great room, with dark wood floors, light walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The living room was sparsely furnished with mid-century modern furniture and the walls were decorated with colorful painted portraits that drew me in.

  I studied the closest one, a watercolor portrait in blues and reds and purples of Mick Jagger. It was almost abstract, yet the subject was easy to make out. I had never seen anything like it before.

  I moved to the next one, a portrait of a woman done in the colors of a sunset: yellows, oranges, and pinks. I didn’t recognize her, but she was beautiful, her hair floating behind her like a stream.

  “Are these yours?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Charlie said quietly from right behind me.

  “Wow,” I breathed. I moved to the next one, and the next, each more beautiful than the last. Some were musicians, but most were regular, stunning people.

  “I knew you were an artist, but you’re really an artist,” I said.

  “It’s kind of my main gig,” he said in an amused voice.

  I turned to face him, and felt like I was seeing him for the first time. Talented wasn’t enough of a word to describe him. He was creative and original and so impressive.

  “Wow,” I repeated.

  A smiled grew slowly on his lips. “If I’d known seeing my paintings would get this reaction out of you, I would have brought you up here weeks ago.”

  “Now I don’t know how to act around you. I used to think you were just a regular guy, not some super-genius artist.”

  He clutched his chest like I’d wounded him. “A regular gu
y, huh? You cut me right to the quick.”

  I laughed. “Well, regular is a bit of an exaggeration…”

  Charlie threw his arm around my shoulder. “I’m happy you like my work.”

  I looked up at his smiling face. “I really do.”

  We stared at each other for one long moment, and then I held up my bag. “I brought bagels!”

  “Thank god. I’m starving.”

  We settled on the couch with our toasted bagels and glasses of OJ. With my plate on my lap, I rested my feet on the low coffee table.

  “How long have you been painting?” I asked before taking a big bite of my everything bagel.

  “Forever, really. My dad’s a painter too, so I’ve had a paintbrush in my hand since birth, pretty much. I didn’t paint as much when I was on the road with the band, but I never stopped. I sold a painting for the first time in high school to a friend’s parents.”

  “Have you always done portraits?”

  “Nah, it’s what I’m into now. Faces fascinate me. That’s why I’m always trying to push your hair out of your face. I can’t see yours.”

  I laughed and pushed my bangs back with my hand. “Here it is!”

  His eyes moved around my face as he studied me for a long time. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are?”

  I dropped my hand, letting my bangs fall in my eyes. “I feel like there’s no way I can answer that and come out looking good. If I say yes, I’m vain. If I say no, I’m either falsely modest or have low self-esteem.”

  He tapped my nose. “It was a rhetorical question, silly. But you shouldn’t hide behind your hair. It’s a tragedy, really.”

  “I’ll take that under consideration,” I said.

  I let out a long yawn.

  “Tired, Miss Eliza?”

  I nodded. “I could go for a nap.”

  Charlie yawned so wide, I heard his jaw crack.

  “Me too. Tell me if this is weird, but how do you feel about co-napping?”

  “How’s your bed? Are there fluffy blankets?”

  “The fluffiest,” he confirmed.

  “I could be convinced. I’m pretty sleepy.”

  “Come on then, let’s sleep together.”

  Charlie stacked our plates on the coffee table, then pulled me up from the couch and held my hand as he led me to his bedroom. The curtains were closed, so the room was dim. In the center of the room was a king-size bed covered in a white duvet. I sat down on the edge and bounced.