One

by Mari Arden

  CHAPTER 16

  Pax owns an old Ford Taurus he inherited from his parents. I know that because Cade keeps referring to it as an old lady car. Pax doesn't take offense, and laughs with ease when Cade starts to make fun of the "ninny" engine. I hate that I'm already judging, but I can't seem to stop myself. I picture Cade owning something fancy like a Ferrari and I imagine him and Pax in it, driving through the city, picking up girls like apples from a tree. I picture Cade driving, and Pax opening the window slowly like in the movies. In my mind I see him flash a smile, and I hear the low timbre in his tone as he introduces himself to a beautiful redhead with green eyes. I wrinkle my nose in annoyance. Why did I agree to this date again? I sneak a glance at Pax in the driver's seat. Cade's doing a horrendous imitation of a rap song, and surprisingly Pax is joining him. He nods his head, inviting me to sing along but I shy away. "Singing's not my thing," I explain.

  "It isn't ours either," Pax replies.

  Clearly. Cade starts rapping, "Do it to the maximum, why you asking them? Don't listen to them suckers when they say you too irrational…"

  "The song is called 'Big Things Poppin' by T.I," Pax says over the loud bass. Cade's really getting into it now, bobbing his head so hard I'm afraid it'll fall off. "Hey," Pax waves at me to get my attention. He hands me his phone, "Quick, record it. We can blackmail him into getting us front row seats at the next Blue's concert." Blue's is a local club bands play at.

  I take the black touch screen. "Aren't you guys best friends?" I ask.

  Pax's eyes sparkle. "Heck yeah we are, but some opportunities are just too golden to miss." He turns the music louder and Cade follows suit, raising his voice until I hear the strain. Pax doesn't lock his phone and I easily access the video recorder.

  "Do it like a ball player when you see me ballin'…"

  I have to stifle my giggling because Cade looks ridiculous and sounds just as bad, but he's really passionate about the words.

  "This kid thinks he's the white T.I. just because they're both bald," Pax whispers loudly. "It's dumb," he rolls his eyes. "You got no street cred, dude!" Pax yells over to Cade. Cade flicks him off. I laugh, capturing it all on camera. Quickly, I put the phone down before Cade sees what I've done. I feel a little guilty when I hand the phone back to Pax, but I can't imagine Pax doing anything too bad with the footage. I settle into my seat until Cade is dropped off.

  Once he's gone, Pax switches from the radio to his iPod and "Radioactive" from Imagine Dragons comes on. "I love this song," he tells me.

  I've heard it before. "It's not bad. You like listening to rock- pop?"

  "I like listening to anything that's good. Mom used to yodel when she was younger so I was obligated to listen to that when I was growing up. Dad had more eclectic tastes. He liked everyone from Bob Dylan to Aerosmith to Run DMC."

  My eyebrows go up. "Really?"

  "Oh yeah. He almost shit in his pants when Aerosmith and Run DMC got together for 'Walk This Way'."

  I laugh. I've heard this song before. It was really popular in the late seventies I've been told. I don't know what his dad looked like, but I picture an older white male in a perfect polo shirt singing the chorus to "Walk This Way".

  "It was worse hearing him sing that then Cade just now," Pax chuckles. He imitates Steven Tyler's high-pitched scream in the chorus and I burst out laughing. "Don't laugh. It's harder to do than it sounds," he tells me, rubbing his throat.

  "I'm not laughing at you; I'm laughing with you."

  "Bullshit!"

  I can't hide the wide grin. "Okay! I couldn't help it. You sounded like a dying hyena."

  "That dying hyena sound made Aerosmith millions," he points out.

  "You got me."

  "What sort of music do you like?" Pax asks, flipping it to me.

  A small smile touches my lips. "Anything that's good," I repeat his answer. The truth is I didn't listen to music much growing up so all my knowledge comes from whatever I hear on the bus radio every morning before school.

  "Ah, so we do have something in common."

  "Because we've got flexible music tastes?" I laugh.

  "Hey," he pretends to be offended. "Our ears are special. It's a talent to like such a variety of music."

  "Or we just have no standard in music."

  "Hey," he objects. "Speak for yourself. My mom was classically trained for five years. Some of that was bound to have transferred to me."

  "Prove it," I challenge. "Yodel."

  "What do I get in return?"

  "A second date," I answer instantly.

  He chuckles. "We've barely started our first date. What if I don't like you?"

  "Not possible," I tease.

  He looks at me for a moment. "All right," he relents. "Here's the deal: two more dates and I get to walk you to class all next week."

  My mouth drops open.

  He shrugs. "I'm a tough negotiator. Take it or leave it."

  That's not why I'm shocked. He wants to see me every day next week? Something giddy comes over me, like every cell inside is scrambling to move. "You drive a hard bargain." I sound like I'm croaking. I clear my throat. "Is that what you really want?"

  He doesn’t hesitate. "Yes."

  Is that what I want? The answer comes out before I get a chance to think. "Yes."

  "It's a deal then."

  I shouldn't feel happy, but I do. At least I think this tight, slight dizzy feeling running through me is happiness. I put my hands in my lap.

  "We're going through a tunnel," he tells me a second before darkness descends around us.

  That's exactly what this feels like. A tunnel. It feels as if I was in transition, and now Pax is trying to get me to the other side.

  I'm not sure I want to go.

  I give a start when Pax's hands covers mine.

  I don't think I have a choice.

  * * *

  We park underneath a cliff. We literally pull to the side of the road, and I look up and there's a cliff. "What is this place?" I ask as I get out. If I had known we were coming here, I wouldn't have worn anything so sparkly. Bugs like sparkly things.

  "It's a place I like to go to chill. I was thinking we could stay here a while and then head downtown. It's a little early to go there now."

  "Okay."

  He grins at me, coming to stand by my side. "I knew it."

  "What?"

  "You're perfect for me."

  I choke on my own saliva.

  "Most girls wouldn't like to come here first and then do downtown later," he explains. "They'd worry about their hair and their clothes too much, but you? You're different. You're low maintenance." He gives a shaky laugh. "I think I need some low maintenance in my life." I'm curious about what that means, but I think if I ask he'll want to trade information and I'm not ready to do that yet.

  He takes my hand and all I can think about is how warm he feels. His heat isn't a fire; it's more like the buzz of warm embers. Cozy. Comfortable.

  Pleasant.

  I think my heart's in my throat, and I have to swallow several times to bring it back into my chest.

  "You okay?" Pax asks as we make our way up. There are several trails with woods and trees surrounding us.

  I nod.

  "You sound breathless."

  "Not all of us are perfect athletes like you," I say, glad I came up with a remark to hide what's really happening.

  "This 'perfect' athlete has to train thirty hours a week," he points out.

  To me it sounds like a waste when you can use that time to be making money. I know his parents weren't rich or they wouldn't have been working at Maddie’s.

  "You must enjoy it," I say.

  He shrugs. "Kind of. I needed something on my college application. I played in high school because it was the only sport I was moderately good at. UW offered me a full scholarship provided I play for them so that's why I agreed."

  I stare at him, wide-eyed. Suddenly, I laugh.

  "What?" he looks a little baff
led. We stop as he turns to face me.

  I contain myself enough to explain. "Well, it's just that you're the most famous guy on this campus. You've got a couple billboards with your face on it, and it turns out you don't even like football much." I can't help it. I start laughing again. The irony isn't lost on him either because his lips quirk just a little.

  "I like football," he tries to back track.

  "Too late," I say smugly. "I already know your secret."

  He pulls me closer until my body touches his. He feels just like I remember. Suddenly, I'm not laughing anymore. Pax puts a finger to my lips. I hold still, afraid to even take a breath. His finger feels heavy on my mouth.

  "I promise not to tell if you promise not to tell," he says in a low voice.

  "What?" My lips barely move when I breathe out that word.

  There's a sexy smile on his face.

  That should've given me a clue.

  Without warning Pax grabs at my knees. I fall, but before my body touches the ground Pax hoists me onto his shoulders and starts running. He's yelling, screaming like a cave man. I flip flop between laughing and scolding him.

  "Put me down," I say, unable to stop the giggles coming out. I feel each step he takes. His shoulders are brick hard.

  "Nu-uh, you're asking for it!"

  "Put me down!" I try to say in a sterner voice, but I end up chortling instead when he almost trips over something on the trail. It shouldn't be funny considering if he falls I fall too, but he made the funniest sound -a cross between a shout and the sounds a headless chicken might make- that I can't get mad. "You're going to kill us!" I shriek.

  "Don't be dramatic," he says, slapping my butt. I make a startled sound. "You're lighter than the bags Coach makes us carry during training." To prove it he runs faster.

  "Aaaaahh!" I screech as we start descending down. My arm curves around his neck, holding on for dear life.

  "You're suffocating me."

  "You deserve to suffocate!" I yell back. They're harsh words, but they make Pax laugh, and he jumps a little as he sprint. " Aaaaahh!" I shout again. "You're crazy!" I clutch him tightly.

  "Crazy in like!" he replies, slapping my butt again. I gasp, and even though I'm not the one moving it feels like I'm running too. My laughter is probably scaring all the animals because I hear the wings of birds flapping away.

  Soon, I feel Pax start to slow down. Within minutes, I feel him drop to his knees, and my feet brush against something. He loops one arm around my knees and slowly slides me back into his arms. Soon, he is on the ground, holding me like a baby with one hand around my legs and the other around my shoulders. My head is turned toward him and he smiles down at me.

  "What was that?" I ask in a breathless voice, referring to how he carried me over.

  "That was the prelude to this." I think he's going to release me so I can see where we're at. I think he's going to move back with his hands at his sides. I think he's going to give me room to breathe. He doesn't.

  He kisses me.

  I don't expect his lips to be so gentle. I don't expect them to feel so soft when every other part of him is so hard. His lips feel like the first time I put a paintbrush on a canvas. There isn't hesitation, but there's a marvel there that I felt when I saw the first mark of what I made. Everything was pale, white, and pristine, and that slash of color was a mark of defiance, a stroke of my intentions.

  That's the thought that runs in my head as Pax moves his lips over mine. It's a mark of something more to come. His large hands hold my face like I'm a cup he's drinking out of. Instead of feeling repulsed, I feel delicate and cherished; pure somehow.

  His lips spread my own further apart until his tongue is able to sneak through the crevice. He doesn't force his way into me. Pax nibbles on my lower lip, and uses his tongue to wipe the little sting away. A moan erupts between us, and I can't tell if it's from me or from him. Pax presses me closer to him, and I put an arm around his neck bringing him nearer.

  The soft kiss is becoming harder.

  He tastes like something I've never known before; something wild and sweet and forgiving. I soak it in like he's rain and I'm a barren land, desperate to feel alive. One arm keeps me balanced, while his other starts to move. I feel his fingers lightly brush against my arm, then lower toward my back, and then lower still until he rests his hand on the curve above my butt. I moan, and shift upward until his hand falls to the curve of my ass. I don't mean to do it, but it feels right. Everything about what we're doing doesn't feel forced or unnatural. It doesn't make me think about my life. It doesn't make me worry. For once, I don't think at all.

  He holds me tightly, as if I'll fly in the wind if he doesn't keep me close. For one agonizing moment, I feel heat and need, pleasure and pain, all at once. It's a dizzying feeling. It's addictive, and if I could've welded myself into him, I would've just to feel more of it.

  Abruptly, he pulls himself away, ripping his mouth from mine. Gasps fill the space between us; hot, little breaths that do nothing to quench the sensations inside us. Our eyes find each other.

  "Wow."

  Who said that? I don't know. Maybe we both did.

  I watch him swallow. His neck is beautiful.

  "You're…"

  I blink nervously. "What?" I whisper.

  "Everything."

  I'm not sure what that means, but the way he says that word makes me think he's given me the biggest compliment of all.

  "You're not so bad yourself," I say softly back.

  "Oh, you know…natural charm and all that."

  I pinch his chest. It's like pinching a wall. He raises an eyebrow as if to say he's invincible. I try again; I pinch his nipple.

  He jumps. I smile triumphantly at him.

  He kisses me on the mouth. Before I can respond, he pulls back. He sees the look on my face. "I want us to actually have a date, and if I keep kissing you we'll be here all night." He lets me up. "I spent all day on this and we need to enjoy it."

  I'm surprised and more than a little flattered when I sit up. We're not on the ground; there's a soft blanket underneath us that I didn't notice before. A basket is a foot away and I face him with wide eyes as I realize what we're doing.

  "Are we having a picnic?" I ask.

  "A picnic on the cliff, watching the sunset, yes."

  I watch him in a daze as he grabs the basket. His hand goes inside, and he starts taking things out. "I burnt a finger on this stuff so I hope you enjoy it." He sounds adorably upset and I almost ask him which finger it is so I can kiss the pain away. My gaze follows his movements and I see each item he unpacks. The first are cookies. "My friend, Pillsbury, helped me with these," he explains as he sets the plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me.

  "You and Pillsbury did a good job," I reply, deadpan.

  "We're a good team," he agrees, just as serious as I.

  Next, he takes out what looks to be two large Panini sandwiches. "Mozzarella, tomato, lettuce, chicken and bacon with a creamy ranch chipotle sauce," he tells me.

  "Impressive."

  "It only took me three tries and two hours to perfect the combination."

  The way he says it makes me want to kiss him.

  Next, Pax takes out what looks to be a dessert. It's in a clear container and he lifts the top off so I take a peek. "Beeramisu," he tells me proudly.

  "Beerami-what?"

  "Beeramisu," he repeats. "It's the man version of tiramisu. Found it on the web. Figured I needed something to keep my manhood intact since I made all the rest of this stuff."

  "What are you talking about? Manly men make Paninis," I tease.

  He shoots me a glare. "I only made it because every woman I've ever been with enjoys Paninis and Cade's ex-girlfriend left her Panini maker at his apartment. They're not on speaking terms so he can't give it back."

  My mood shifts downward a little when Pax talks about other women. How many women has he been with exactly? I shouldn't care. The past is the past, I remind myself, but
the thought is like a little mosquito in my head, buzzing. Maybe he notices something on my face because Pax switches the topic.

  "So how do you like Mad town?" he asks me as he unwraps a sandwich.

  "It's good." I think about Nat and the ridiculous stories she tells me. "Crazy, but good."

  "For the record, I'm very normal," Pax assures me. "Not a bit crazy." Pause. "In fact, the sword I carry on my back is for the sole purpose of protection only."

  "Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, not missing a beat. "Might be hard to hit on a girl with that sword though. I keep mine locked in my car for emergencies."

  He hands the sandwich to me. "Beware. I'm also an expert at throwing rocks."

  "Really? I'm an expert at spitballs. We should form a superhero team." I take the sandwich. Pax's hand closes over mine.

  "Our team name should be Rock 'n' Balls."

  "Great." I don't bat an eyelash. "I love balls."

  His mouth quirks as his hands tighten around mine. "What kind of balls?"

  My heart's beating loudly in my ears. I've never done something like this before, but the rapport between us is so effortless, so organic and natural. I don't feel like I've just met him. I feel like we've been around each other for years.

  Pax's eyes are a mixture of sparkling amusement and hot intensity. I feel his attraction to me. I feel his interest like a magnet. He waits for my reply and my boldness grows stronger.

  "Oh, you know, all kinds." I try to sound casual. "Big, small, crooked, striped, hanging… What sorts of balls do you like?"

  "I like football… does that count?"

  "Ah, you like oblong brown balls then. To each his own."

  Silence.

  "Actually, I like soft balls," he tells me seriously. "Pairs of soft balls. The sort of balls with a nipple growing out of them."

  I'm torn between laughing and blushing until my face feels like it's going to melt off.

  "My favorite thing isn't even a ball," he continues, staring at my face. "It's this girl with beautiful gray eyes that remind me of a perfect storm." I suck in a breath. "She's vulnerable and strong. I want to know what makes her tick, yet I want to save her from everything that does at the same time." He moves closer to me. "She's unlike any person I've ever met. She's sweet and funny and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."