A Season of Eden (14 page)

No one said a word, now that I’d instigated what everyone was sure would turn into an argument. But I’d just had one of the toughest talks of my life. With James.

Talking to Matt was a piece of cake.

“Josh and I both missed you, didn’t we, Joshie?”

Josh pretended to watch the cars driving by. “Speak for yourself.”

“We did great,” I went on as if nothing was weird between us. “It was a great concert.”

Brielle dug into her purse and slipped on her sunglasses.

“Want something?” Matt leaned toward her.

“Uh, sure, a diet Dr. Pepper. Thanks.”

He shot me a scowl and got up. Then he walked into Fiasco’s.

For a minute no one said anything. The silence, the situation, was so ridiculous I almost broke out in a laugh, but that would have come off as really lame. I tapped the table with my nails. “Brielle, look, this isn’t complicated. You and Matt are more than welcome to each other. Seriously.  Just… be careful.”

She nodded but still wouldn’t look at me. “I am careful.  We don’t need your permission.”

That was Matt talking, because Brielle was weak as a baby. She followed me wherever I went. But rather than argue with her, I thought of the night. Of James. Of Starbucks. I leaned forward on my elbows. “You guys will be a good match. I’m happy for you.”

Josh shook his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” I asked.

“You’re, like, giving them the key to a hotel room.”

“So? What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you even care?” Tanner asked. Out the corner of my eye, Brielle watched me intently with her thumb fingernail stuck between her teeth.

“Just because Matt and I aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean he can’t be happy with my best friend.”

Josh threw back the last of his Mountain Dew and shook his head again. “Still.”

“Still what?” I pressed. This was all too immature for my taste. Games were for people who couldn’t stop playing them. I stood. “I think I’ll walk back to school.” I gathered my purse. Brielle nodded.

Now she and Matt could ride back to campus together.

They wouldn’t be offering me a ride if they passed by, but I didn’t care. I looked at my cell phone for the time. Six hours and forty minutes to go.

At six-thirty, I changed into a grey skirt, dove sweater and a cropped pink denim jacket. I freshened up my makeup, sprayed on some perfume and changed my Louis V for my Marc Jacobs bag. Then I headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?”

I couldn’t believe Stacey was home. The surprise almost stopped me in the hall, but I kept going, walking right by her. “Out.”

“Where?”

Why was she suddenly asking me this? Of all the times to start playing mom, this was not going to be it. “For coffee.” Then I slammed the back door and strode quickly to my car. I snuck a peek at the door as I slipped inside, started the engine. My heart thrummed. What if she came after me? Tweezed me for more questions? I could tell her I was meeting Brielle.

I screeched out the driveway, tapping my fingernails on the steering wheel as I waited for the slow gates to open.

Music blasted from the speakers. Checking my rearview mirror, I had the fleeting fear that Stacey would come running out. Why, I couldn’t fathom. Her interest in me was about as important to her as a trip to the library.

Her appearance and question bugged me as I drove along the Drive and off the hill. She was never home during the day, and if she was, we never said a word to each other.

If she thought she was going to get anything out of me now, she was in dreamland. I’d lived without a mother for the last twelve years. I was four months short of graduating from high school and moving out on my own. She was the last thing I needed.

I let out a sigh and slipped the compilation CD of classical music I had downloaded from
iTunes
. The music took my mind from troubling thoughts of Stacey to James’ peaceful face.

Warm comfort filled every part of me. This ‘chance’ meeting was all that mattered. James and I were opening a locked door, stepping over boundaries and into rooms I’d never been before. I didn’t see this get-together as forbidden. I hoped his acquiescence meant that he didn’t either.

Embarking on a very real adult move, I tried to ease my skittering nerves. My feelings seemed more vibrant, more alive than I had ever felt anticipating seeing Matt or any other boy I had liked up to this point. Swirling in my system was an urgent energy I didn’t know how to release.

I parked. The night fog had begun to roll in, and thick fingers caressed Starbucks. Coffee scented the air. I looked through the huge windows into the burnished-lit building and found him sitting on a stool at one of the tall café tables.

I pretended not to notice him as I walked by outside.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw him sit up when I passed.

The heavy warmth in the store breathed through my senses once I was inside. I looked around, pretending to look for him and in my peripheral vision, saw him rise and come toward me.

“Eden.”

I turned and faced him. He wore chocolate-cream slacks and a snug brown sweater that fit as cuddly as the black turtleneck he’d worn for the concert. I took in a deep breath. He smiled at me.

“Hey,” I said.

He angled his head in the direction of the table where he’d been sitting. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Sure.” I followed him, admiring his back muscles, the fine curve of his erect shoulders when he walked.

He pulled out the stool for me and I sat.

“Do you come here a lot?” I asked, setting my handbag on the floor. I could hardly believe I was sitting with Mr. Christian . Alone.

He leaned an elbow on the small table. A slight smile lifted his lips, as if he was pondering my we-just-ran-into-each-other question. “No. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, actually.”

“What do you drink?”

His eyes flicked off the faces in the room as if searching for someone he knew. I glanced around, too. I didn’t recognize anyone.

“Hot chocolate,” he said. “Can I get you something?”

he asked after he finished looking around.

“Yeah, I’ll take a caramel cappuccino.”

He nodded and left then. My reflection in the glass made my smile grow. I was sitting with James. The two of us. Alone.

I was content to watch him as he stood in line, his hands in his front pockets. As he ordered, I heard his melodic voice rise above the music playing overhead like another song. When he came back with our drinks, my heart stammered.

“So, hot chocolate?” I nodded at his steaming cup.

“Yes.” He sipped, his green-blue gaze fixing on mine over the rim of his cup. “Here we are, Eden.” He held his cup in the palms of his hands.

“Here we are.” I sipped, because I felt awkward.

“Ouch.”

“Burn?”

I nodded. “Hell.” I looked at him, gauging whether my profaning had offended him. I had no idea if he swore or not. It reminded me that he was right, I really had no idea of who he was.

“Tell me about you,” I said, holding my cup between my hands like he did.

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Tell me about you.”

“We have a problem, because I want to hear about
you
.”

His smile deepened. “I grew up here in the Riv.”

My mind flashed a picture of the Tudor house I had seen him drive to. I felt ridiculous that I had done that now, on the precipice of finding out where he lived by his own admission.

“And you went to South,” I said. He nodded.

“Where did you go to college?” I asked.

“Cal State Dominguez.” He watched me for a reaction, figuring I’d find the college lowly. I ignored my conditioned response of aversion.

“Do they have a good music program there?”

“One of the best, that’s why I chose it. Where do you want to go to school?”

“I’ve been accepted at UC Santa Barbara.”

“Wow. That’s great.”

“I wanted to be far enough away, you know? USC, UCLA weren’t far enough.”

He sipped his hot chocolate, the steam clouding his eyes. “You sound anxious to get out of PV.”

“I am.” Or was, I thought. Up until I had met him, I couldn’t wait to get out. Now, a place deep inside tore in two with doubt.

“Tell me why?” He set his cup down, and crossed his forearms. I liked the way his fingers looked resting against his brown sweater, gentle but strong.

“I’m not close to my parents,” I started. “When I said they don’t come to concerts, that was only part of it. They don’t come to anything.”

His brows knit over concerned eyes that reached out to me, opening me, taking away any fear I had of sharing what I held closed in my heart. His voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you, my father remarried after my mother died.

Things were never the same.”

“How did she pass away?”

“Cancer.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

A rush of emotion choked my throat. It was more than my father had ever said to me. I had to reach for my cup. “Anyway.” I set the cup back down after I’d taken a sip. “My dad’s into Stacey and work. He’s a lawyer. It keeps him pretty busy. When he comes home, they go out. So we never see each other.” I wanted to change the subject.

“Your mom seems sweet.”

A small smile crept on his lips. “She is. My father left when I was in elementary school.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“Like you, I’ve learned to live with it.”

“So you and your mom are close?”

He nodded. “She’s done a good job being both mother and father. I respect her. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“I’ll bet you never gave her any trouble.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What kind of trouble did Mr. Christian get into? Tell me?”

“My name is James.”

I bit my lower lip and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

“James.” My voice sounded as raspy as my breathing. He reached for his drink and lifted it to his lips, staring at mine.

“I like James,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“It’s formal, but cool.”

He set down his cup, now focusing on my eyes again.

“What kind of trouble did I get in? The usual guy stuff.”

“Girls?”

He let out a snicker. “What makes you assume that?”

Was he kidding? “Most hot guys do.”

His face flushed like he’d just drunk his steaming chocolate down in one gulp. “I hate to burst your image of me but, no.”

“Seriously? I’d have thought they were lined up around your piano.”

He laughed. “That would have been nice.”

“You could have played for them and they would have done whatever you wanted. Like a genie with his magic lamp, only yours being a magic piano.” He shook his head, as if my suggestion was outrageous. “Why? You like girls, don’t you?”

His chuckle faded and sat back for a moment. “Yes, I like girls. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“Phew. For a minute I thought you were going to tell me you came from a single parent house with an over-domineering mother and that now you’re gay.”

“You know an awful lot for—”

“—Don’t say ‘a teenager.’ There’s a lot to know if you want to know people. You’d be surprised how many boys come from homes like that.”

“And they talk about this?”

“Of course. They
want
to talk. We share our dysfunctional experiences.” I took the last drink of my coffee. He looked at my cup.

“Would you like another?”

“I better not, I won’t sleep for days.”

“Does the caffeine bother you?” he asked. I nodded.

“Then why do you drink it?”

“I like the taste.”

“So do I, but I don’t drink it for the same reason.”

“But it tastes so good. How can you resist?”

Something in his eyes flickered, stirring me deep inside.

He brought his cup to his lips, his gaze shifting to my mouth. “Some things are harder to resist than others.”

After we finished our drinks he escorted me out into the grey night. Wispy fog chilled me and I shuddered as much from the temperature as the unknown. What would happen next?