“Ouch.” I laughed.
Her eyes narrowed. Oh, I loved those eyes. They changed colors when she was angry. Hot. So damn hot.
“It’s a necessary evil.”
“Because.”
“You said one true thing.”
“This is part of the true thing.”
“Nope. I told you one true thing. I hate dying my hair.”
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.
I looked away, focusing on the bar of soap in the corner of the bathtub and the slow drip of water coming out of the leaky faucet. “Light hair was the old me — too recognizable. And that’s as close to the truth as I’ve told anyone.”
Saylor’s lips pressed together, causing her cheeks to tighten just a bit, which also caused her neck muscles to strain. Man, every inch of her was perfect. I wanted to touch every part of her. I’ve never seen a girl look so sexy without trying.
She was in skinny jeans and a black t-shirt for shit’s sake, and it was a tie between wanting to strip her first and lick her later or lick her first then strip her later.
“Thank you,” she finally said, getting up off the floor and checking my hair with her fingers.
“Not so fast,” I murmured, grabbing a hold of her waist. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me one true thing.”
My fingers dug into her skin, her breath caught.
“I think you’d be hotter as a blond.”
I released her and burst out laughing. The sound of it echoed around the bathroom walls like a damn ping-pong ball. “Honey, you have no idea how true that is. No. Freaking. Clue.”
She swatted me with a towel, and just like that—
I was back to being obsessed.
Back to trying to figure out possible scenarios where the endgame wasn’t me packing up and leaving.
But keeping her all for myself.
Except — I had a nagging suspicion that if she ever found out who I really was, the normalcy of our relationship would take a nosedive and head straight for the pit of hell.
Chapter Thirty
The hardest thing I’ve ever done is watch my family suffer through my illness, knowing there was nothing I could do to comfort them… until I saw the look on Gabe’s face when she came into the room. And then, like watching the saddest part of a movie, I saw their story unfold. And the ending? I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch. Because I hated those types of stories — ones that gave you no hope but left you empty — and searching. —Wes M.
Saylor
I pulled into the parking lot and hurried out of my car. An accident on the freeway had made traffic complete insanity. Clenching my keys in my hand and some sheet music in the other, I ran toward the doors. Two men, big enough to cause serious damage to any action star, blocked my way. My eyes fell to two huge guns. Had there been a break-in or something?
One of them held up his hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um.” I looked around them. “I’m one of the volunteers from UW.”
The one picked up a clipboard. “Name.”
“S-saylor.”
“Last name?”
I froze, literally forgetting my last name, then one of them pointed at something on the clipboard and nodded.
“Go on in.” They moved to the side and let me pass. I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket for them to hold at the front desk, and completed my usual sign in.
Once everything was said and done I was fifteen minutes late.
I ran through the doors and nearly collided with Gabe.
He gripped my shoulders and steadied me. “You’re late.”
“I know,” I huffed. “Traffic was horrible, and then two huge guys stopped me outside the building. Did something happen? Why is there more security than normal?” I vaguely remembered the conversation Gabe had on the phone when our kiss happened. I mean, I’d noticed that more security had been added over the past four weeks but two goons in front? Really? Had he said something about more security in front of the building? To be honest, I’d been so shocked about the kiss that his entire conversation fell on deaf ears. Now I wished I could remember it.
Gabe removed his hands and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe some of the residents are trying to escape.”
“It’s not like we don’t try,” Old Man Peterson grumbled, shuffling up next to us.
Gabe gave the old man a high five and pointed at his retreating form as he used his walker to make his way across the floor. “My point exactly.”
I rolled my eyes and walked by Gabe to the front of the room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!”
They quieted down and took their seats.
“Today I thought it would be fun to break out into groups and write our own scales. When you’re done, you can either hum the song to me or you can use your instrument to play the notes. We’re just going to work with the major scale today, so use any four notes you want, but only four. We don’t want to make it too difficult. I have examples on the worksheets — oh, and please make your notes colorful. If you use an F or a G make sure it’s always the same color as the previous F and G. Any questions?”
They never had questions.
Probably because they never actually followed directions, but hey that was fine, at least they were enjoying themselves.
For the next hour, I made my way around the group tables and offered my assistance, but I stayed away from Princess.
Gabe was with her, hovered over the piece of paper while she instructed him on what to do.
Ha, and he thought I was bossy.
I had nothing on that girl. She knew exactly what she wanted and why.
“No, Park! I want you to use the same note again! It needs to be pink!”
I watched them interact, watched how he patted her hand every once in a while, or how he adjusted her chair so he was closer, or even wiped some of the spit from her mouth.
I’d already suspected there was something more.
I wanted to ask him, because I was beginning to wonder if she was his sister or some other family member. It was the only logical explanation as to why he would not only volunteer but be the only person who was with Princess the most. Then, on the other hand, Lisa somehow had to fit into the picture. I just didn’t know how. Ugh, I was giving myself a headache.
“Sorry.” He laughed and tapped her nose with the pink crayon. “So what notes do you want?”
“I want—” She started coughing wildly.
Gabe shot to his feet. “Get it out, Princess, that’s right, just cough it up.”