Following Isaac

by McMillin, Casey

  I was thinking about how glad I was that I hadn't told Naomi when I heard a guy's voice. "Becca!"

  I stopped and looked back to see Isaac jogging toward me with a huge smile. "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "I just assumed you couldn't make it, so I was going to my car."

  "Why didn't you just come in the ballroom?"

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he shook his head and gestured for me not to. "I have to finish up in there, but I want you to come back in and wait for me, okay? Will you, please?"

  I followed him inside, and he went over to the group of models and crew who were gathered in the lobby. They all spoke for a few minutes before dispersing. Isaac, along with two girls who looked like models and a guy I recognized from Instagram as his trainer and friend, came toward me.

  I begged myself to remain calm.

  "Becca, this is my friend Shane and two of the girls from the shoot, Sasha and Heidi."

  I waved at them and tried to carry myself as confidently as possible in the presence of people who got paid for being so beautiful.

  Shane stuck out his hand, and I shook it.

  "She and I are going to grab a cup of coffee together since we haven’t had the chance to catch up," Isaac said, looking at the other three.

  Shane wore a confused expression as he regarded Isaac and then me. "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

  I said, "No."

  And at the same time, Isaac said, "Yes." He quickly changed his answer to "Sort of," which made Shane regard him curiously again. "So, I'm gonna catch up with Becca for a little while, but we'll be back," he said. "Probably in a couple hours or so." He looked at me. "Do you have a car?"

  I nodded.

  "We'll see you guys later," he said. We walked out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk again. I was glad for the darkness since I was almost positive I was blushing. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, taking glances at me as we walked.

  I shrugged and smiled. I felt breathless, and I silently begged myself to get it together. "I thought you said you wanted to get coffee."

  "That's just what you say to land the date. Now that you're here, we can change plans."

  I wasn't normally a negative person, but I couldn't let myself believe he just called what was going on here a date.

  "I could go for coffee," I said.

  "Why not dinner?"

  My gut clenched when he said the words. It seemed like a dream. I didn't know what to say, and it showed when what came out was, "I usually eat dinner."

  "Every night?" he asked.

  "Yep."

  "How about tonight? Have you eaten already?"

  "I don't think so, no."

  "I haven't either."

  "Maybe we should eat, then," I said.

  "That's just what I was thinking."

  Chapter 10

  Isaac

  I felt like I knew this girl Becca the instant I saw her. Her eyes were so familiar that I was annoyed with myself for not remembering where I'd seen them. She almost didn't agree to come back and get coffee with me. I could see how hesitant she was. She was so reluctant that I figured she must have a boyfriend. If she did, he was short because I had to slide the passenger's seat back about ten inches before I could even think about sitting down in her car.

  She had a small hatchback that she mentioned getting as a graduation gift before she came here for school. Before we took off, she asked where I wanted to eat. I told her I wanted a fish taco and she drove me to her favorite place to get one. It was a food truck that never left it's location. The tires of the truck were flat and they had stationary canopies and tables set up in front of it with strings of lights hanging overhead. We ordered at the window and then I sat across from her at a small wooden picnic table.

  I couldn't help but glance up at the lights behind me after seeing the way they were reflected by her eyes.

  "Are you wearing contacts?" I asked, staring into her eyes.

  She laughed a little, covering her face.

  "What?"

  "For some reason I thought you were going to say 'are you wearing underwear?' I mean, not that I wanted you to say that or anything… it just caught me as funny that I assumed it's where that sentence was going." She sighed and smiled at me. "And now I feel like an idiot for saying that."

  "I'd like to get around to that question and others, but for now, I was wondering about your eyes," I said. "Are you wearing contacts?"

  "No." She glanced at the table shyly.

  "Becca," I said, causing her to look up. I scrutinized them. They were like golden-brown jewels with facets that were only accentuated by the overhead bulbs. I was mesmerized. She squinted, which made me notice she was smiling at how hypnotized I was. I must have been staring.

  "You said my name, and I asked you what three times, but you didn't answer," she said.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't even hear you."

  "Do you remember why you originally said my name?" she asked.

  Just then, our number was called.

  "I'll get it," I said, standing up.

  "I like your clothes," she said, as I put her basket onto the table.

  "They gave me all that stuff from the shoot, but I felt like being in sweats," I said. "I hope you're not planning on bringing me anywhere fancy." I sat down across from her and met her gaze.

  "This is about as fancy as I get," she said.

  "Tell me something about yourself, Becca."

  "I grew up two hours from here." She paused, but I nodded as I took a bite of my taco, and she continued, "I'm in the middle of my last year at UCLA and I live with a family friend."

  "Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked.

  "No." She remained almost expressionless when I asked that, but I could tell she was taken off guard.

  "Tell me something else," I said.

  "All right, but then it's your turn." She looked down shyly as if talking about herself embarrassed her—or maybe she was unsure of what she wanted to say. Either way, she seemed shy. "I don't really care about what I'm studying in school," she finally said. "Now that I know how much I love my job I realize I should have probably studied botany or agriculture or something."

  When she said that about loving her job, I had a flashback to the place I'd seen eyes similar to hers. It was a girl who was working with flowers just like she was. I tried to jog my memory. I'd been to a lot of hotels, and they all seemed to blur together, but I was almost positive the last set of eyes I'd seen like hers belonged to someone in Los Angeles, and oddly enough, to someone who was working with flowers.

  "Do you have a sister?"

  "Yeah," she said. "Why do you ask?"

  "I just saw someone with similar eyes at a hotel one time I think."

  "Oh no. My sisters both have dark eyes. Plus, neither of them even live here."

  "They're almost unmistakable."

  "My eyes, really?" she asked. "Oh, my color is everywhere. I see my color all the time. Now, your eyes are rare. I never see other people with that shade of green. Are yours contacts?"

  She seemed to want to get the attention off of herself, which was the opposite of what most other girls would want. I didn't ask her about eyes again. I stared into them and marveled at them but didn't mention them.

  We talked about everything else, though. We each asked meaningful questions about growing up and goals for the future. I had the distinct feeling I already knew her. I was unnaturally and undeniably comfortable in her presence, and I caught myself dreading the moment the encounter ended.

  "Can I go by your house?" I asked when we were on our way to her car.

  "I still haven’t gotten my coffee."

  "Let's do both."

  She tried to shake me again after we went to the coffee shop, but I talked her into bringing me by her house. It was a nice place; similar to the lawyer's from the other night. The guy who owned the place was a professional poker player and (as she put it on the way to his house) certified oddball.
/>   When we walked in, he was working on a house of cards that was so poorly constructed it was an absolute wonder how it was standing. The more I looked at it, the more I realized what a work of art it was. By the looks of the thing, there was no way it should have been standing. It looked architecturally impossible, like it should have fallen over long ago.

  Uncle Greg had on super short workout shorts from the seventies with a striped, terrycloth sweatband and knee-high athletic socks to match.

  "This one's really cool," Becca said as I followed her into the room. "I'm not gonna walk by it, or it'll fall."

  "It's sturdy," he said. He glanced at me. He had on nerdy aviator glasses and was sporting a thick mustache. I liked him instantly. "Who's this?" he asked, sticking his hand out in my direction.

  We greeted each other with a handshake. "I'm Isaac," I said. His head tilted down and he regarded me through the tops of his glasses with a blank expression. He stared at me for an awkward amount of time, but I was patient and waited to see what he'd say next.

  He glanced over at Becca. "Is this the guy from that website with all the fans?" he asked.

  She blushed as she stared at him in disappointed disbelief. "You must have Asperger's," she said, shaking her head at him.

  He smiled innocently. "What? If it's the guy I’m talking about, then he probably knows he's famous." He looked at me. "Are you that guy?"

  I smiled. "I do have a few fans on the internet," I said. "But I don't know if they count in real life since they don't know I stink when I sweat just like everyone else."

  "You stink right now," Greg said.

  I seriously loved this guy. He was a character all the way.

  "Unbelievable!" Becca said staring at her uncle. She looked at me. "I told you we shouldn't come here. He has no idea what he's talking about," she said.

  "You smell amazing." Greg laughed. He looked at Becca. "He knows he smells amazing, and so do the rest of us. I was joking when I said he stunk." He gestured at me. "He got it. Didn't you?" I smiled at him and was about to open my mouth to speak to him when Becca cut in.

  "Don't answer that," she said. "I think I should probably give you a ride back to your hotel."

  "I'd like to see how the house comes together if he doesn't mind."

  "I don't mind at all, young chap." He seriously did call me chap, which mortified Becca and in turn made me smile. We stayed at her house for the next two hours, cutting up with cards and getting poker tips from Greg. It was after 9PM when we drove back to my hotel.

  I had no plans to ask her to stay the night with me, but the closer we got to my hotel, the more I started to dread saying goodbye. "What do you have going on in the morning?" I asked.

  "I have a class at noon. It's a review for the final." I knew she wasn't like other girls I'd been with. In fact, I had no idea how she'd respond to me asking her to spend the night. I looked at her from across the console. I wanted her in a different way than I wanted most girls. Don't get me wrong, I definitely wanted my piece inside her, and the sooner the better, but with most girls, that was all I wanted. With Becca, it was more that I didn't want to be apart from her.

  I reached out and put my hand on her arm. "I was thinking you could stay with me," I said. "You know, like spend the night in my hotel room."

  Her eyes widened slightly. "I think your friend and those two girls are expecting you to—"

  "Nobody's expecting anything. I only have two more nights in L.A., and I decide how I want to spend them."

  She was quiet for so long that I almost spoke again, but she finally said, "Isaac, I'm extremely flattered that you'd even say something like that, but I'm—"

  "Don't make an excuse, Becca. You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

  "No."

  "You like me, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Then please stay with me tonight. I like you too, and I don't want you to drop me off."

  She got quiet again. I waited for at least a full minute for her to respond before filling the silence. We were getting close to the hotel, and I felt a wave of frustration wash over me at the thought of leaving her. I knew we'd just known each other a few hours, but I didn't want our time together to end. At first it was her eyes, but it wasn't just that anymore. She had a quick wit and a sweet spirit that had me feeling like I might be a happier person for knowing her.

  "You should have asked me before we left," she finally said. "I didn't come prepared to stay the night anywhere."

  "Why do you have to prepare to sleep somewhere? All you have to do is lay your head down and fall asleep."

  "I usually don't sleep at a guy's house the first day we meet each other."

  I wanted to assure her that I wouldn't try anything on her, but I just couldn’t make that kind of promise. "We've covered a lot of ground on getting to know each other already," I said. "Plus, I only have two more nights in L.A."

  "All the more reason why this is a bad idea," she said.

  And there it was—there she went referring to me leaving as if it was a negative thing. That sort of comment would normally send up all sorts of red flags, but not with Becca. In fact, I wished she were more adamant about not wanting me to leave. We were only blocks away from the hotel, and all I cared about was getting her to agree to stay.

  "You don't have to spend the night. Just come up for a little while," I said, settling for whatever I could get.

  "Yeah, because I have that class tomorrow, and I—"

  "That's not till noon."

  She pulled into one of the metered spots about a block away from the front door of St. Andrews and looked over at me once the car was stopped. "I'm just not really sure what's going on here," she said. She seemed slightly hurt or offended, which I didn't understand at all.

  "What do you mean? I don't want you to leave and I'm asking you to come up to my room to hang out."

  "I guess I just don't really understand why you'd want to hang out with me when you have those girls up there waiting for you."

  I could tell she was genuinely confused and wasn't just saying it for attention or to cause drama. I reached out and touched the side of her face. My fingertips came alive with feeling at the touch of her soft cheek. "Do you not know you're beautiful?" I asked.

  She glanced away shyly as if that word didn't apply to her. I tilted her chin with my finger, forcing her to look up.

  "Please tell me you know how beautiful you are," I said, seriously. I could tell by the way she regarded me that she didn't agree with me, and maybe even thought I was mocking her somehow.

  "It was nice meeting you. I had a lot of fun, but I really should be going." She seemed as though she was sad to say it, but thought she had to.

  "Becca, I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you go," I said. I gestured for her to drive. "Pull up at the door and give your keys to the valet," I said. "I'll pay for it." She looked at me like she really wanted to refuse, but I could tell it was out of fear. "Please," I begged. Life was short, and I had no time for regrets. "You'll regret it if you leave," I added after having that thought.

  "Just for a little while," she said.

  Chapter 11

  Becca

  I needed to get a freaking grip on my nerves, but it was almost impossible with the way Isaac stared at me as if he was love-struck. I tried to refuse when he asked me to go to his room, but he easily talked me into it. He seemed entirely sincere about wanting to spend time with me, and even though I still doubted the trueness of the situation, I couldn't refuse him.

  He talked to the valet. I handed my keys over and felt oddly out of place as we entered the front door. I was in hotels all the time, but I always showed up with flowers or plants and stayed in the lobby. Crossing the lobby to the elevator felt strange.

  "New York Nicky! Do you mind if I get a picture with you?" someone said just before we made it to the elevator. Isaac and I both turned to see who spoke. I knew it was a female by her voice, but didn't know how gorgeous she was until I spun around. She was
dolled up to the max and I absentmindedly wondered if she was staying in the hotel or just hanging out to try to meet Isaac. Then I felt bad for thinking that since I wasn't above doing the same thing.

  "Of course I don't mind," he said. I stepped to the side to let them do their thing.

  She stood on her toes, trying to position her face next to Isaac. He didn't leave her hanging; he bent to put his face next to hers. She snapped a couple before kissing him on the cheek, continuing to take pictures.

  "What's your name?" he asked, laughing a little at her kisses as he pulled away.

  "Tori."

  "It was nice to meet you, Tori," he said.

  "Do you mind if I post these pictures?" she asked.

  "They're yours," he said, smiling kindly at her. He stuck out his hand for her to shake, but instead, she went in for the hug. She reached around him and squeezed tightly, and he laughed at the shock of her swift movement. It looked just like the photo he posted a long time ago with the girl squeezing him. I just stared at them. I knew I should feel threatened by the way girls threw themselves at him, but for some reason, I wasn't. Maybe it was because I didn't believe I was even there in the first place. I felt more like I was watching a movie of his life rather than being a part of it.

  She ran off giggling, and he crossed to me and reached out and grabbed my hand, leading me to the elevator. I was acutely aware of his touch. His hand was big and warm, and I could feel his roughened calluses. I wondered why a male model had blue-collar hands, but then I remembered how much time he spent lifting weights. My gut clenched at the thought of him in the gym. I knew perfectly well what was under his clothes, and I felt a burning need to make babies with him. I wasn't in a huge hurry to have children, but Isaac Charles made my womb ache.

  We stepped inside the elevator and he pushed the button to take us to the top floor, which was the fifteenth. The doors closed slowly and we started to move. He took a sudden step to his right, turning to stand with his back against the side of the elevator. He was still holding my hand when he did it, and the motion jerked me sideways. I teetered and fell into his arms, and he caught me up and pulled me to his chest. He looked down at me before cupping the side of my face in one hand. My cheek rested comfortably in his warm palm and I stared up at him.