Catch Me

by Claire Contreras

  “‘Kay, I’ll get it. Anything else?” I ask, tapping my fingernail against the backside of my phone as I wait for the elevator. I swear that out of all of the elevators in Manhattan, this is the one that takes the longest.

  “Nope. See you soon,” he says before hanging up the phone.

  Butterflies swarm my stomach as I ride up to the forty-fourth floor, knowing that I’ll see Nick shortly. The last time I felt butterflies when I was going to see a guy was when I was sixteen years old and had just met Shea, which is ironic considering the situation I find myself in now. As I walk toward Studio 10, I wonder how Shea would feel if anything ever did happen between Nick and me. I can’t imagine he would be upset or actually jealous, but men act like cats—territorial and possessive over you one day and discarding you the next, so you never know which way their crazy minds will go.

  I pull the door open, ready to say hi, but stop short when I find Nick sitting down, his back facing me, and Gia draped over him with her arms wrapped around his neck. The blood rushes out of my head quickly and I feel myself go completely cold before it fuses back just as fast, boiling in its return.

  “Gia, get the fuck off me,” Nick growls, shifting his body from under hers.

  “Aw, come on, Nick,” she coos. “Cassidy told me how fun you can be.”

  He swivels in his seat, effectively throwing her off of him, and she stands back with her arms crossed in front of her chest. The navy blue romper she’s wearing covers close to nothing, leaving her long legs on display and her breasts practically spilling out from the top.

  “Cassidy needs to learn to keep her mouth shut,” Nick responds in a deadly quiet tone, his blue eyes narrowed at her. Both of them are so upset that they haven’t even noticed that I’m standing here. “When I’m working, I’m working,” he continues as I backtrack my steps to step outside. “You’re with Shea and he’s my boy. Show some fucking respect.” That’s the last thing I hear before tiptoeing out, still walking backwards, and shutting the door quietly.

  I wish I had stayed longer to hear her response or to see if she tried anything further, even though with the look Nick gave her, I doubt she would. I’m still holding the doorknob in my hand when it’s pulled open from the other side, and I yelp.

  “Oh, sorry,” Gia mutters, her eyes wide when she sees me.

  “Hey, no big deal. Shea told me to come by and get his bag,” I say, hoping my voice sounds as steady as I’m trying to keep my facial features.

  She has the decency to flush at the sound of Shea’s name and she nods her understanding. “I’m going to take a quick break, the bag is by the bathroom. Enter at your own risk, you may want to stay quiet because Shadow is working,” she says the word working with an attitude and an eye roll. “And he’s a total dick when he’s in the zone.”

  I let out a laugh. If I hadn’t just witnessed what I did I would think Gia was crazy, but being that I did, I just nod. “Got it. See you tomorrow.”

  She waves and says goodbye before storming off.

  Walking in again, I shut the door quietly behind me and walk toward the bathrooms. I have to pass by Nick to get there, so I stand behind him for a moment, studying the way his defined arms move along the soundboard and the back of his downcast head bobs along to whatever is pouring out of his earphones. His back is wide and strong and I wish I had the balls to throw my arms around him like I saw Gia do earlier. I wonder if he’d tell me off like he did her.

  I contemplate two things:

  1. How ridiculous would it be for me to do it?

  2. How awkward would it be if I did it and he chewed me out for it?

  I turn toward the chairs beside the bathroom, noticing there are two bags, a pink one and a black one. The black one has Shea’s signature “S” on it, so I pick it up, swinging it over my shoulders and take one last look at the back of Nick’s head and back before turning to leave.

  “You’re not even gonna say hi?” Nick says behind me, startling me. I place a hand over my quickening heartbeat and turn around slowly.

  “I was told you didn’t want interruptions,” I explain quietly.

  Nick pushes himself back in his seat, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. The gray V-neck shirt he’s wearing is clinging to his hard body, and I can see the ripples that etch his toned torso. He tilts his head and looks at me with those knowing blue eyes of his as he purses his lips.

  “Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

  “I caught Gia on her way out,” I explain. “She looked … upset.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Good. So she told you not to interrupt me?”

  I shake my head with a smile. “Not exactly. She told me you were working and that you don’t like to be interrupted when you’re working,” I say with a shrug. “I only came by to pick this up for Shea.”

  Nick nods and scratches his chin. “Cool. I could’ve taken it to him.”

  “I had to come in anyway. I have stuff to do before I-” I stop short, frowning. “Wait a minute, you’re going too?”

  He tilts his head to the other side, his eyes dancing in amusement as a slow smile spreads over his face. “I am.”

  “Hmm.” I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else. “Well, I’ll see you later then.”

  “See you later,” he says, looking at me as if he’s on the verge of laughing at my expense, surely from the mix of emotions painted all over my face.

  I turn around and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on me as I do.

  “Hey, Brooklyn,” he calls out again, and I swear he’s enjoying the whole watching me go thing that guys do.

  “Yes?” I ask, unwilling to turn around because my heart is pounding at my throat.

  “You have permission to interrupt me,” he says.

  I turn around, stunned, because I have to—how can I not?

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Okay,” he agrees with a sense of finality before he turns around and gets back to work.

  Shaking my head, I turn around and take the elevator up to my office. I stick my head in Stacey’s office on the way to mine and ask her if my brother’s in yet. She’s on the phone, so she nods with a smile and signals me to go into his office. I knock once before I let myself in, finding him standing, facing the window as he talks on the phone.

  “I’ll be there on the weekend,” he says quietly. “I know we need to talk. I have to go. Okay. Bye.”

  Hendrix’s face is clouded as he turns to face me, and I can tell he’s still mulling over the conversation he had.

  “Who was that?” I ask with a frown as I walk toward him and give him a kiss on the cheek. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. It seems like when I’m home, he’s not and vice versa.

  “Sarah,” he says with a sigh, running his hand through his curly blond hair.

  “Oh. How is she?”

  “Fine. She wants to talk.” The way he says the words, as if he’s not sure he wants to talk to her, makes me think there’s a lot more to the story, so I do what every good sister would and take a seat.

  “Talk. What’s going on?” I ask; glancing at my gold boyfriend watch quickly to make sure I have time to be nosey.

  Hendrix sighs loudly and takes a seat in his huge cherry leather chair. He places his elbows on the desk and buries his face between his hands. “How did things get so fucked up?” he asks, seemingly talking to himself. “One minute we were in love, crazy about each other, married. The next we were thrilled to be having a baby together, and then it seemed like we couldn’t even bear to look at each other. I just don’t get it. What the fuck went wrong?” His voice is soft and cracking and it breaks my heart along with it.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer in a whisper. I’m not good with comforting others. Hell, I can’t even comfort myself most of the time. Growing up we weren’t really shown empathy, and I think that’s one of those things that you kind of have to be shown in order to give.

  He shakes his head, still in his hands.
“I just … I love her so much, but I don’t think we can work this out anymore. She’s there and I’m here and I’d rather be here … but I can’t bear the thought of completely losing her.”

  I purse my lips, nodding as if I understand what he’s going through, even though I don’t. It’s easy to dish out advice when you’re not the one in the situation, though, so I do.

  “I think if you really feel that strongly about the whole thing, you should fight for your girls,” I suggest.

  He nods in agreement. “I think you’re right and I will.”

  “Good. I’ll be back in next week but I’m having Stace email me whatever she has for me. I’ll listen on the road,” I say, ruffling his hair as I lean down to place a kiss on his forehead.

  “See ya. Please be careful, Bee. PLEASE,” he pleads, frowning his sad brown eyes at me.

  “I will,” I promise. “Stop worrying, Mother Hen. Geez,” I joke, making him smile.

  A nagging thought strikes me as I’m walking out of his office, so I turn around and face him. “Hey, Henny … why do you want to fight for her now? After all this time? What changed?”

  He looks surprised by my question and averts his eyes from me. “Some guy in that band she’s producing asked her out,” he grumbles.

  My mouth falls open. “So a guy asking out your ex-wife is what made you realize that you might lose her? Jesus Christ, men are fucking stupid,” I mutter under my breath, turning back around and walking out.

  “We are! Remember that for future reference!” Hendrix screams behind me, making me laugh.

  On my way back downstairs, my elevator stops at the forty-fourth floor and Nick gets in with a couple of guys and one older lady. I scoot further back in the elevator to make room for them and anybody else that will get on as we descend floors. Nick pins me with his gaze, causing butterflies to reawaken in my core, and he scoots beside me.

  “Did Gia finish recording her part of the song?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at him.

  He nods, his eyes locked on the elevator door. “Yep. She’s usually pretty good once she stops fucking around.”

  I nod and turn my face forward to look at the metal door as well. “Cool.”

  “You headed straight to the airport?” he asks, scooting closer to me when more people step into the elevator and go completely still when his bare arm touches mine. It’s so dumb, really. I’m not in the fifth grade, surely I can handle a man’s arm touching mine, but holy crap his arm touching mine makes my insides mush. I decide in this moment that this is the most ridiculous crush I’ve ever had in my life. So what if he looks like a God himself sauntered down here and sprinkled gold all over him. So what if he smells like one of those little ads that come in Esquire magazine for men to sniff the next perfume of their choice? He could totally model for one of those ads too. It doesn’t matter, though—I’ve seen plenty of hot guys. I’ve been with some too. The difference between them and Nick, however, is that he is a man, not a guy. He. Is. Man. If you look up the definition of hot man, you’ll find Nick. No joke.

  He nudges me, snapping me out of my crazy thoughts. “Huh?” I say, confused, looking up at him.

  He grins and I feel my knees go a little weak. “Are you going to the airport now?”

  “Ohh … well, I have to get my bags and then I’m going.” I frown. “Are you?”

  He nods. “Responsible.” He points at himself.

  “So am I,” I counter, a little offended at his suggestion.

  Nick laughs loudly as we step out of the elevator. “Hey, I don’t know.”

  I push his shoulder playfully with my hand, making him laugh louder as he takes my hand and squeezes. “I am responsible! I just need to get my suitcase and that’s it!” I say with a laugh.

  “Sure. You don’t need to pack your hair products?” he jokes, grabbing a lock of my hair and shaking it in his hand.

  I slap his hand away. “Stop it,” I fume jokingly. “I do need to pack my hair iron,” I mutter under my breath, making us both laugh.

  “Figures,” he says, his sea-green-blue eyes twinkling.

  “You know your eyes change colors?” I ask randomly.

  Nick slows down his pace until we both stop walking. We’re standing in the entrance of the building and people are walking past us on either side, but neither one of us move. We just stand there; holding each other’s stares until I feel dizzied from the way the look in his eyes makes me feel.

  He steps in, just an inch closer to me, close enough for my breath to catch at the proximity. Close enough that I have to crane my head to look at him. Close enough for the amazing smell of fresh smelling man that radiates from him to wrap around me. His gaze dances over my face and falls onto my mouth, lingering there as he licks his own lips slowly, making a new kind of warmth curl in my stomach. When he looks back into my eyes, the side of his mouth tilts up, as if he can hear my thoughts ringing loudly in his head. I’m sure what I want is written all over my face. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.

  “They do change colors—my eyes,” he says quietly, as if I might’ve forgotten what we were talking about. “And I love the way you look at them. Like you get lost in them, like you can’t help yourself.”

  My eyes widen, but I’m too stunned to move or reply to that. What would I say, anyway? Yes? I swallow loudly instead and bite down on my lip, looking toward the door for a distraction.

  Nick’s finger tipping my chin brings my attention back to him. “See you later, Brooklyn,” he says, dropping his hand and tugging a lock of my hair before walking off.

  By the time I climb the stairs of the jet, Shea and Nick are already sitting in there playing the Xbox that’s connected to the big screen television toward the back. Shea nods his head at me in greeting, not taking his eyes off of the screen as he continues to shoot his opponent. Nick turns his head to me and smiles, tipping his fingers in a salute.

  “Dude! You’re gonna get me killed!” Shea shouts.

  Nick laughs and looks back to the TV. I shake my head and walk toward them, plopping down behind them.

  “Is anybody else coming?” I ask, propping my head on my hand and laying my body sideways across the couch so that I can still look at the game they’re playing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the excitement of these Call of Duty games, but Shea loves them.

  “I’m surprised you’re a gamer,” I say in reference to Nick. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for one.”

  Nick chuckles and turns his head, his brows raising slightly as he does a slow sweep of my entire body that leaves me shivering. When his eyes reach my face again, my stomach feels like it’s zip lining from the look he’s giving me. He looks like he wants to devour me and between the way my heart is beating against my chest and the rest of my body is coiling, I wish he would.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” Nick says, his voice dropping into what I can only describe as a sensual timbre that makes me bite down on the inside of my cheek.

  “Nick! You’re gonna fucking die!” Shea screams, visibly upset over the game.

  Nick completely ignores Shea’s plea to get back in the game and lets his gaze continue to rock through me, making me feel unnerved, bare, as if I’m under a microscope. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, but I know that the only reason people look at each other like that is because they either want to kill each other or fuck each other to death. Because I know we’re both aiming for the latter of the two and I don’t know if I would survive that with him, I find myself shuffling to my feet quickly and excusing myself to go to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I sag against it and let out a breath, closing my eyes until my heart goes back to normal speed.

  There’s a knock on my door shortly after, followed by the flight attendant telling me they’re ready for departure. I open the door and peek out, noticing that the bathroom light is on and only Nick is in the cabin. I take a breath and push my shoulders back, walking toward the couch again to buckle my seat belt. We d
on’t have to do this, people rarely actually put their seatbelts on during private flights, but I like to be safe and not rolling all over the cabin. It happened to me once before and I learned my lesson.

  Nick is on his computer with his earphones on, his head bobbing, and hasn’t acknowledged my arrival. If he knows I’m here, he shows no sign of it. Shea steps out of the bathroom, stretching his arms up, his white T-shirt riding up and the top of his underwear showing. It’s the same underwear I saw him in an advertisement for.

  “Do they give you free underwear now?” I ask curiously.

  Shea grins his shit-eating grin that he throws around when he catches girls checking him out and I have to laugh because he’s that ridiculous. He sits down beside me and throws his arm over my shoulder, tucking his face into the side of my face. Normally I would laugh at his antics, but for some reason the only thing I can think about is Nick and the fact that he’s sitting right in front of us. The entire thing makes me feel weird for some reason, though I don’t know why.

  “You wanna see them?” Shea whispers into my ear, causing me to shiver, but it’s more on the disgusted side than turned on side. It’s not that I’m disgusted by Shea, but the idea of being with him in that way only clouds me with bad memories, horrible memories even, ones I don’t care to explore more than I’m doing by going to San Francisco with him. Even that’s pushing my luck, I realize, but at least I can rationalize my visit by thinking I’ll get some closure.

  I move my face further away from him and catch Nick’s eyes bounce from the computer screen directly into mine. Shea’s oblivious to my discomfort. Oblivious to the fact that I’m more tuned into what the guy across from us is doing, the guy who hasn’t even touched me, yet ignites tiny fireworks in my veins with just one look. Shea doesn’t feel that my body isn’t responding to him but leaning away instead, the way it has been for years. He doesn’t get it though, he just keeps leaning in, trying to drain me of whatever I have left, even though it’s not his. Not anymore.