This sucks.
Later, when I’m lying in bed with Archie, who is attempting to suffocate me by sitting on my chest, I use my mental microscope to analyze every word and every touch we shared today. I grab onto anything I can perceive as a sign he wants to see me again, and I form a little pile in my mind. On the very top of that pile are the words, Don’t disappear again. Surely he wouldn’t have said that if he planned on ditching me.
My boring life has unexpectedly become filled with an onslaught of excitement, sex in any place but a bed, and emotional stress. I’m overwhelmed, petrified, anxious, and falling head over heels in love.
Chapter Seven
Monday morning, I’m half an hour late to work. I took a melatonin to help me sleep the night before, and even though Ditra suggested it, telling me it’s all natural with no side effects, I struggled to wake up enough to make it to work on time. I guess having vivid dreams about things floating across my room and waking up with brain fog aren’t considered side effects.
Two coffees, a nasty side-eye from my boss, ten phone calls, and a few hours of research later, it’s lunchtime and I’m walking nervously to the park. How did what used to be my daily hour of peace and calm become a mishmash of anxiety?
An irresistible guy with a guitar and an adorable dog showed up; that’s how.
Bluesy rock music in the air tells me he’s there before he comes into view, and I can’t help but smile as I walk through the iron gates and see him sitting on a stool in his usual place. I’m sure the stool is much more comfortable than sitting on the ground, and I wonder where it came from. His eyes are closed and his body is swaying slowly and seductively as he plays. Watching him transports me to a private visual cinema of flashbacks of how his body moves and sways sans guitar.
I shake my head to clear those visions, which I shouldn’t be having in the middle of the day, surrounded by strangers, just by merely looking at him. Minutes later, I almost choke on my spoonful of yogurt when the unusually long song ends, and he raises his head to look directly at me with a fierce hunger in his eyes like that of a wolf staring down its prey. He nods to the small crowd around him and then quickly packs up his things to come take a seat next to me.
“I liked that song,” I say. I’m surprised he walked away from the small crowd. People were throwing more cash into his jar than I’ve ever seen them give. “I could tell it’s one of yours.”
He shoves up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and stretches his arms. “It’s new. It’s called ‘Butterflies and Madness.’”
“I like it a lot. It was like a mix of everything you’ve ever played all at once. It sounded amazing.”
His eyes light up at the compliments, and I’m enthralled with how the color of his eyes can change so quickly. “That’s what I was going for. You’ve inspired me.”
“Me?”
“You.” He clicks his tongue piercing against his teeth, a habit I’ve noticed a few times, usually when he seems to be wrestling with a thought. “You didn’t come see me yesterday.”
My mental pile was right after all. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. You didn’t say anything—”
“Yeah, I’m not good with plans. I just kind of assume things will happen.”
I laugh at his honesty. “That can make things a little confusing.”
He grins and nods. “I know, babe.”
I’m sure thousands of women are called babe on a daily basis, but to have it said to me in such a deep, sensual, caressing voice that makes my insides turn to mush is nothing short of amazing.
“I can’t call you, Piper. I don’t have a phone or even a fucking calendar. Most of the time, I’m not even sure what day it is. I can’t take you to dinner or to movies or any of that fun shit. I’m working with limited options here.”
My heart constricts, and emotion clogs up in a lump in my throat. “None of that matters to me.”
He touches my cheek and turns my face toward him. “You sure about that?” A veil of sadness shrouds his blue eyes again, and I’m struck with the need to do anything to take it away.
“I’m positive.”
He leans closer to me, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he brushes his stubbly cheek against mine and nudges his lips against my ear. “Then bring your sweet ass here after work.” His hoarse tone drips with raw sexual power, and I submit. A burst of sheer excitement courses through me, and I feel like, if someone were to cut me open right now, my veins would drip glitter and rainbows.
“Okay,” I reply with a soft exhale. “I’ll be here.”
Here. There. Anywhere. None of it matters as long as I get to hear his voice, stare into those cobalt eyes, and feel his lips on mine.
For once, the afternoon at work goes by quickly. I call my mother from my desk to tell her I won’t be home for dinner and then move my car from the office parking lot to a safe spot on the street. Leaving it at the office after hours would raise questions, and I don’t want anyone poking around in my personal business.
I’m surprised to see Evan and Acorn waiting at the gates for me, one with a smile and one with a wagging tail. Blue takes my hand in his and looks up and down the street at the five o’clock traffic before talking.
“You mind if we go for a walk?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he puts his stuff in my car before he leads me down the street in the opposite direction from my office. We walk about four blocks until we reach a dead-end street with very few houses and zero traffic. As we approach the woodsy end of the road, I realize we’re in the same spot where we had sex in the car the other night. He stops walking and gestures to the last house on the left, which is set back from the road, surrounded by trees.
“I love this house.” He stares across the lawn affectionately. “There’s just something about it.”
The Tudor-style house he loves has clearly been abandoned for a long time. The stone and stucco are dirty with age and lack of care. The dark wood trim that probably once gave the home a very distinguished storybook feel is now hidden behind decaying leaves. The focal point of the house is definitely the arched wooden front door with its huge iron knocker and handle which is less than inviting given its surroundings. The grass is overgrown and riddled with weeds and twigs, and the windows have been boarded up with sheets of plywood. I try to see the house through Blue’s eyes. Perhaps he sees beyond the ruin. I see that in Blue in so many ways. His unusual perspective isn’t distracted by the dirt and decay that might turn others away. I feel like he sees beauty where others refuse to look.
“Let’s take a look around back,” he says, tugging my hand.
“Isn’t this trespassing?” I ask in a hushed tone.
He laughs. “I’m a professional trespasser, Piper. It’s what I do. Don’t worry about it. No one is around.”
True enough.
We follow the cracked driveway to a stone walkway that takes us to the backyard, which is surrounded by woods. There’re no other houses for as far as I can see, except for the house to the left, which is almost a quarter mile away. A four-season porch is off the back of the house, with long-forgotten plants and a hopefully empty birdcage visible hanging in the window. In its time, I’m sure the porch must have been a beautiful place to sip tea and read.
“How sad such a beautiful house has been let go like this,” I say.
“It happens a lot. Once a home, now a bunch of empty rooms with nothing but memories.”
“I wish we could go inside. I’d love to see all the rooms and the decor and what they left behind.”
“We can’t go inside. But we can go in there.”
Puzzled, I follow his gaze to a small toolshed in the far corner of the yard.
I blink at the dilapidated building. “In there?”
“Yeah. Come on.” He whistles for Acorn, who has wandered off into the weeds. The dog perks up his ears and trots over to follow us.
I worry about ticks and snakes as we walk through the high grass, but Evan seems oblivious to those concerns. When we reach the shed, he lifts the rusted metal latch and swings the wooden door open with a creak. I hold his hand and stay behind him. As he goes inside, he pulls me in with him.
Even though the sun is starting to set, there’s still enough light for us to see our surroundings, although there’s not much to see. A few old yard tools hang on one wall, and some old buckets and paint cans are piled in the corner. The wooden floor is dusty beneath our feet, and cobwebs lace random places over the walls and in the corners of the small window. I’m pretty sure we’re standing in bug central, and I’m petrified of spiders or any other creepy crawly.
I grip his hand tighter and wonder why on earth he wanted to come in here. There’s nothing of value or use at all.
“It’s starting to get dark outside,” I hint, but he continues to look around, clicking his piercing as he does so.
“I have a lantern,” he says absently, obviously forgetting his bag is back in my car.
“Are you looking for something?”
“No. I’m looking for somewhere.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”