My Life as an Album (Books 1-4)

by LJ Evans

  She knew she was part of the problem, though, because she half wanted him to show up. Then she could blame everything on him. His possessive nature. The crap that had gone down with the unknown caller. But she couldn’t give in to her desire to have him back. She had to straighten out her own head first. She had to figure out her own plan before she was drawn back into a world where nothing existed but Seth.

  Letter Three

  IN THESE ARMS

  “I’d love you, I’d please you,

  I’d tell you that I’d never leave you.

  And love you ‘til the end of time,

  if you were in these arms tonight.

  -Bon Jovi, Bryan, & Sambora

  Dear Bella,

  Where did I leave off? I think it was you, leaving me at The Green Room? I’d had all those images floating in my head. Images you’d created. I went immediately to my studio. The drive home gave me a lot of time to see the most recent image unfold in my mind. The silk on metal that I hadn’t been able to escape since I’d kissed you the night before.

  In my studio, I got caught up pounding out the thin sheet of metal. Heating it, bending it, twisting it so that it lay shiny and smooth as if it was a piece of silk cloth draping and pooling around the metal chair I would make.

  I worked nonstop for several hours, until the light changing on the silky metal made me think of the light flashing in your eyes as you’d stormed at me in the restaurant, and it snapped me out of my art in a way very few things can.

  As you can attest, I’m like most artists. I can lose myself for hours at a time in my work. Before I met you, though, there were times when I worked for twenty hours straight before I realized my body was screaming for food and rest. After you, I could never last that long before the need to be with you, touching you, listening to you, would draw me back to our life. You were good for me in that way. You are good for me in that way. I have more in my life than just art.

  At that time, I wasn’t used to the idea of you causing my hands to stop so dead still. I found myself scratching absentmindedly at a cut on my neck that I’d received while working with the metal and tools. I looked at the rooster clock hanging above the window in my shop as a reminder of people who had once loved me.

  I didn’t bring many things with me from my grandparents’ ranch when I’d sold it after their deaths. As much as I loved my grandparents, I also loved that they knew I’d never survive living in the depths of Tennessee. I love that they’d told me in their will to sell, to use it to start my own life.

  The clock read four-thirty. I’d been working only about five hours, but I was hungry. And my brain was now thinking about my inspiration instead of my work. And I realized, you hadn’t shown up. Not that I really expected you to run over to my studio after you’d told me you couldn’t right away. But damn it, I really wanted to see you again. Needed to see you again. Fucking Bon Jovi wouldn’t get out of my brain. “Like the roses want the rain… like the poet needs the pain.” From day one, you were already in my blood. But I needed you in my arms.

  I cleaned up in the half bath attached to the studio and headed into the main house with its soothing beach wood and warm tones that meant home to me as nothing ever had before. In the kitchen, with its steel and glass that was the place that I usually worked at my other hobby—cooking—I just fixed myself a sandwich and ate it leaning against the frame of the French doors, staring out at the beach and the waves. Which made me think of those eyes of yours. The colors changing so rapidly.

  I reached into my pocket and, almost without thinking, called Locke’s number. Locke answered on the second ring, “What now?”

  I’d growled back, “She’s not here.”

  “Who?”

  “PJ.”

  “Was she supposed to be there?” Locke said confused.

  “She said she’d come see the studio.”

  Silence on Locke’s end for a whole thirty seconds. “She did?”

  It was my turn to be silent. He sounded surprised, and that pissed me off and made me worry all at the same time. As you know, pissed always wins with me.

  “What do you want me to do about it?” Locke groused.

  “Give me her number.”

  “If she wanted you to have it, she would have given it to you.” He sounded so protective that, not for the first time, I wondered what the deal was with the two of you. It made my stomach knot, and I found myself wanting to punch Locke’s smooth face till his gray head swung about uselessly. It wasn’t the kind of sudden violent impulse I’d had in a long time. It made me frown, angrier than before.

  “Have her call me,” I stormed before pushing the off button and tossing the phone to the sofa.

  I decided to go for a swim before I really did break something or headed down the street to the bar on the corner. I changed, headed out to the breakers, and pushed through them till the houses and the beach faded away into a smaller perspective. Then I turned back the way I’d come.

  I was exhausted and cold which helped with my anger and frustration. When I made it to the porch, I hosed off at the outside shower, rubbed myself dry, and padded back inside.

  The first thing I did was grab my phone. The frustration came rushing back when I saw there was no call. Does it surprise you at all that I called Locke’s number back?

  “Seth?” Locke was clearly surprised.

  “She hasn’t called.”

  “Jesus H. Christ. I just called her. She’s at work.”

  “That was an hour ago.”

  Locke sighed. “What the hell is going on?”

  The truth was, I wasn’t normally this needy. It wasn’t me. I was the one who usually didn’t call. In fact, I didn’t ever call, even after I’d slept with them. But I also never promised I would. Only one girl had ever gotten a promise or a call back, and that had been a lifetime ago.

  “She said she’d come over. You know how I feel about people not following through,” I said, which was really a half-truth. I did have a violent reaction to people not holding up their end of a bargain, even if it was a half-ass meant one. But I also wasn’t going to admit to Locke just how much I needed to see you.

  “Look, Seth. PJ. She’s… You can’t treat her like your slam bunnies.” There was anger in Locke’s voice that brought me right back to the pissed off feeling I’d had before the swim.

  “Because she’s your slam bunny?” My voice was barely controlled rage. I had to force the image from my head of your silky skin and Locke’s gray hair tangled together.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “What is it like?”

  Silence again on Locke’s end. “It really isn’t any of your business. If PJ wants to tell you, she can. It’s her business more than mine.”

  This made no sense to me at the time. If Locke was sleeping with you, it made it damn well his business as much as yours. Neither of us said anything as I tried to breathe. Tried to focus on the waves I could hear outside my window and less on the image that was tearing a hole in me.

  “I’ll call her again,” Locke said with a sigh.

  I hung up without a response.

  I needed to fucking get a grip.

  I headed into the bedroom and changed into my flannel pajama bottoms that looked ridiculous on me, but I didn’t care. The pajamas were really Cam’s fault. She used to slide the flannel on over her swimsuit as she’d leave the dive school when I picked her up. The flannel was so soft, and she’d tease me about getting my own pair whenever I tried to let my hands wander over and under the soft cloth. So I had. Maybe at first it was a way to remember her by, but now it was simply because they were damn comfortable.

  I grabbed a water, trying not to crave a beer, and slouched down on the couch in front of the TV. I flipped through the channels, not really seeing anything, and landed on some sports game that I didn’t give a shit about.

  Before I knew it, I was dialing Locke again. “This is ridiculous, Seth. She
’ll call when she calls, man,” Locke said instead of hello.

  “She’s not coming tonight,” I said, trying to keep my voice firm, but even to myself it sounded needy, and of course that just ticked me off.

  “Probably not. I know she’s at work until at least eight.”

  “Where the hell does she work?”

  Flashes of bars and strip clubs raced through my head even though I knew it was unreasonable because it would be much, much later than eight if you worked at any of those places. I needed to get a grip. I really didn’t understand why this was bothering me so much, but all I could see was pale blue-gray eyes and cheeks full of color. I was almost shaking just thinking about touching those cheeks and kissing those soft lips.

  I cleared my head about the same time Locke cleared his throat and said in a tone that was soft, solemn, and almost as lethal as my own can get, “Seth. You can’t mess around with her. I’m serious.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face, wishing for a beer. Again. Wishing for something that would put my brain at rest.

  “I’m going out to the shop. Have her call me,” I said and hung up. I walked barefoot back out to the studio, grabbed my gear, and started up again on the metal that I needed to have pour like silk.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  I had small cuts all over my chest and feet from working shirtless and barefoot with the metal. I knew better. But that night I hadn’t cared. That night, the pain had been a good pain. It had kept me focused on things besides those soft, color-changing eyes and a pint at a mahogany bar.

  The phone in the pocket of my flannel pajama bottoms vibrated. I dropped everything and pulled it out. It was a number that wasn’t one of the three fucking numbers in my contact list. I couldn’t help the hope that soared into my chest that it might be you.

  “About goddamn time,” I said instead of hello. Maybe now you can understand why I sounded that way. At the time, you must have thought I was off my rocker.

  I was met with silence.

  “PJ?” I growled out.

  “Is this Mr. Carmen?” I heard your melodious voice and relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized how afraid I’d been that I’d never hear it again. Afraid that you wouldn’t call or come over. Afraid that Locke would keep you all to himself.

  “Not Mr. Carmen. Seth. Why aren’t you here?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Carmen.”

  “Seth,” I said, growling. I wanted to jump through the phone and shake you or kiss you until you stopped calling me by my asshole dad’s name.

  After another silence you finally relented, “Seth… Was there something you wanted?”

  “You told me you were going to come by and see the studio.”

  “I told you I couldn’t do it today.” I could hear the prickly tone in your voice, and it was a painful relief. So much better than the emotionless professionalism you’d been trying for before.

  “You said you couldn’t do it right now,” I growled again. I was trying to get control of my emotions. I didn’t want to scare you away, but my need to see you was all consuming. The desire to have you in my arms almost a physical pain. The intensity of it was scary even to myself, so I can’t imagine how crazy I came off sounding on your end.

  “Well…yes, if we are being specific, but I assumed you understood that meant I’d come by in a few days when I had more time. I’m really busy finishing school and I have work and the blog.”

  “Then you should have said that.” I was annoyed at the thought of having to wait days to see you. “Where do you work until eight o’clock at night?”

  “That’s really not relevant.”

  I ran my hand along the smooth metal. It was almost the right texture of silk. Not quite there yet. All I knew was that I would much rather be running my hands down you. But I also knew that if I came on as strong and hard as I wanted, you were going to freeze and walk away.

  I sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  “Not probably,” you bristled, and I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of your beautiful pale eyes flashing.

  “Come see it now,” I said quietly. I know it sounded like a demand, even though, to me, it was as close to begging as I’d ever been.

  “Um, no,” you responded like I was an idiot, and this normally would have sent me into the boxing ring, but instead you made my lips twitch into a smile.

  “Afraid?”

  “Um, no,” you repeated. But I could tell you were trying to convince yourself as much as me.

  “I want you… I’d like you to see the studio.”

  “Why?”

  I couldn’t tell you the real reason. The real reason was insane. The real reason would have you blocking my number.

  “I think you appreciate my art.”

  “A lot of people appreciate your art, do you invite them all to your house?”

  “No.”

  “I see.”

  Silence. Still charged with energy, like the building of a wave until it reached its crest.

  You broke the quiet with a question, “So why do you want me to see it?”

  I slid my hand over the silky metal while I tried to decide what was the safest thing to tell you. I resorted to a half-truth. “I want you to see your piece.”

  I worried I’d lost you because you were quiet for so long. But eventually, you breathed out, “My piece?”

  “Most of my pieces start with an image. A flash. I haven’t been able to get this vision out of my head since I saw you.”

  After another long pause, you said, “Not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s ten o’clock?” You said it like you meant it to be a statement, but it came out as a question, as if you were wondering if that was a good reason.

  “That just means it's eight o’clock in Hawaii.”

  You laughed and it hit me in the chest.

  “Not tonight,” you repeated.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  You spoke soft and low. “I have to work.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “Yes,” and now you sounded exasperated. “Not all of us are free to make our own work hours.”

  “When are you done?”

  “Noon.”

  “I’ll have lunch ready.”

  “I won’t be there till well after lunchtime.”

  “It’ll wait.”

  You seemed hesitant to say yes, but I knew you were close to relenting. I could feel it. So, I did the only thing I could think of, I begged. “Please.”

  You sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can after work.”

  “PJ?”

  “Yes?”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  I was grinning like a damn fool when I ended the call, but I felt calmer than I had all day. And that was just the beginning. What I felt then. When you said yes. That was just the tip. Like that antenna on that super tall building in Dubai, the rest of the building yet to come.

  PJ After Letter Three

  (YOU WANT TO) MAKE A MEMORY

  “If you don’t know if you should stay,

  And you don’t say what’s on your mind.

  Baby just breathe.

  There’s nowhere else tonight we should be.”

  -Bon Jovi, Child, & Sambora

  This letter from Seth does feel like the tip of the iceberg. The intensity of everything that came next overwhelms PJ just thinking about it. She looks at herself in the mirror over the sink in the dingy apartment she shares now with Haley and Mina and remembers the mirror in the gym and the nervousness she felt going to see him that first Saturday.

  The doubts. The ringing phones. The pieces of time they stole. She puts on Bon Jovi’s “(You Want to) Make a Memory” because Seth’s right, Jon seems to know their story.

  PJ wonders what would have happened if she hadn’t gone over there that day. Would it all have been different? Would she and Seth still have ended where they en
ded? Somehow, she thinks they would have. It might have started later, but she doubts that Seth would have had the ability to stay away. Or her the ability to resist.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  That first Saturday they were together, she spent the morning questioning herself. How strong would her resolve be? What exactly were her intentions going over there? Just trying to decide what to wear had made her late for her little ninjas. The night before, she’d been unable to sleep, thinking instead of Seth’s deep, sexy-as-all-get-out voice, and his clear blue eyes. She was still thinking of him the next morning as she threw ten different outfits into her gym bag, dumped them out, and started over again.

  Even after all her classes, when she’d showered, shaved, done her makeup, and tossed her hair up into a loose bun, she was still unsure what to put on. She stared at herself in the women’s locker room mirror. She was tempted to wear her yoga pants and her Freestorm Gym t-shirt. It would make her feel safe. Like she could outrun whatever emotions and physical reactions that Seth Carmen was pulling from her.

  Her text tone pinged.

  NO CALLER ID: I won’t be able to see you today. I’ll miss your smile. Stay happy. Stay beautiful. I’ll see you soon.

  It gave PJ goosebumps. She tried blocking it the normal way, but it didn’t work. She was trying to figure out what to do next when Liv came out of a stall with discomfort written all over her face and thoughts of the text left her head.

  “Are you okay?” PJ hurried to her sister-in-law’s side.

  “Fine,” Liv responded with a wave and a hand to her back. “I swear, this little joker thinks stepping on my kidneys is like jumping on a trampoline.”

  “Do you want me to get Justice?”

  “God no. He already worries like a papa bear.” Liv gave PJ a weak smile. “I’ll be good. Two weeks, and then I’ll be complaining about no sleep when this little critter is up all night.”

  PJ couldn’t help but watch her with a worried half-smile. “Honest, PJ, I’m good. If it gets worse, I’ll let Jus take me to the hospital.”