A Tale of Two Centuries (13 page)

Chapter Fourteen

“This is really important to my career,” Reid says, raking a well-groomed hand through his spikes. “With Marilyn involved and the early buzz around my indie film premiering in a couple weeks at Sundance, there’s gonna be a lot of eyes on our performance. I need this to be a hit.”

Nodding to show I am listening, though still unable to comprehend most of his bizarre use of jargon, I glance at the parking lot for Austin. He promised to be here at one o’clock, and according to my helpful costar, it is now one fifteen. Fortunately—or perchance not, depending on how you look at it. Mama would certainly think
not
—Reid is more than happy to wait outside with me.

I peek again at the emptying lot.

It’s not that I am ungrateful for Reid’s attentiveness. Being alone out here would be much worse. But if Austin does not appear as promised soon, all my fellow actors and actresses will be gone, and I will be left again in Reid’s company without a chaperone.

It is odd that I am not similarly concerned with being alone with Austin.

“Maybe we can grab some lunch and run lines?” Reid suggests, interrupting my faulty logic. “I know you said someone’s coming to get you, but I’ll be happy to bring you home later.” When he speaks again, his voice is nearer to my ear. “Besides, I’d really like to get to know you better.”

His words, and the unpleasant reminder of Matteo they bring, get my attention.

My gaze snaps up, and Reid gives me his child-who-got-caught grin. “We
are
playing history’s most beloved couple of all time. I think we should at least grab some coffee.”

Though the offer of a hot beverage is innocuous enough, at least in light of the more aggressive twenty-first-century courting rituals I witnessed Friday in the school hallway, it is the way Reid says it that makes me nervous. The jut of his chin, the teasing lift of his eyebrow, and the melodic rising of his voice imply he means much more than a mere sharing of refreshment.

Swallowing hard, I wet my lips and stammer, “Oh, well, I-I very much appreciate the kind offer—”

“Sorry, man,” a familiar voice cuts in, laced with humor and a distinct edge of possession. “But this one’s mine.”

The voice registers a second before a strong arm slips around my waist. Reid’s eyes widen. I turn to the boy beside me and watch Austin’s face twist into a sardonic mask of challenge, daring me to argue with his claim. I subtly shake my head.

I couldn’t argue if I tried. My ability to speak left the moment he tucked me in tight against him.

“Hey, sorry, dude,” Reid says, lifting his palms up as he takes a step back. “Didn’t know she was taken.”

Although I am sure Austin is only pretending to be jealous for his own purposes, they so happen to align with mine. Reid believing that I already have a suitor will ensure future rehearsals stay neighborly. But had Austin and I
truly
been betrothed, and any of this were actually real, I think I would take severe umbrage with the both of them. A woman being thought of as a man’s possession may not be too far from the truth for
my
time, but from what I’ve witnessed in my short stay and learned from Cat’s many tales, it’s certainly not how things are done now.

Austin shrugs and leans his head down to place a swift kiss on the tip of my nose. A tingle explodes from the point of contact and shoots shivers over my entire body, making me gasp audibly. He smirks.

“No problem,” he says, “I’m just glad I got here when I did. Alessandra has a habit of being a little
too
nice—” He says this while giving me a pointed look, but I’m too busy hyperventilating over his unanticipated kiss to make any sense of it. “So I see where you could’ve gotten the wrong idea.”

The two continue talking about me over my lowered head, while I remain in an Austin-just-kissed-me daze. A series of questions runs through my mind: where did Austin come from, why was he late, why did he kiss me, and most importantly,
why
did it have that shocking effect?

I’m not so sheltered to believe we shared the sort of embrace for which poets write sonnets, but it’s the closest I have ever come. Even when Matteo brazenly pulled me into seclusion at a dinner party or social gathering, he only did so to whisper promises of our future. He was never so bold as to take me in his arms and show me what a true kiss of passion could be like.

And now that I
have
gotten a taste—granted it was on my nose, but still a taste—I decide I would very much like another.

Austin shakes me, jarring me from the fog. “Anyway, thanks for looking out for her until I could get here. I’m taking her to my family’s place in Malibu, so we better get on the road.” He looks down at me and winks. “Ready, baby?”

I stare into bright blue eyes twinkling with false affection, and my stomach clenches.

What would it be like to have a boy really look at me that way?

A cough pulls my attention back from my melancholy thoughts, and I find Reid watching me intently. “See you at rehearsal tomorrow?”

I nod. “I look forward to it.”

Austin grumbles something under his breath and pulls me toward his hastily parked red truck. The driver’s side door is ajar, and the engine is still running. As I climb in the passenger seat, I realize his truck is another example of the duality that lies inside this complicated, clearly intelligent boy. Cat told me that although she and Austin are in the same grade, the school held him back due to insufficient grades two years ago. Unlike her, he doesn’t have to worry about bothering parents or hiring kind drivers when he desires to go somewhere—he is free to take me in his own car wherever he’d like.

On his own, without the need of a chaperone.

Stamping down the unfamiliar burgeoning heat in my core, I risk a glance back at the theater, knowing Reid is watching. His lips lift in a mischievous grin and he waves. Twisting fully in my seat, I wave back and Austin slams on the gas pedal, reversing abruptly. My head lurches toward the hard dashboard.

“Oof!”

As I rub my temple, I glare at him with everything in me, sending forth as much venom as I can muster.

To which he replies, “Oops,” and attempts to look innocent, but fails miserably.

Any lingering heat in my veins from his shocking kiss turns to red-hot fury. I know he drove in such a manner on purpose—I only wish I understood boys better as to know
why.

Sinking into my seat, I vow to ignore Austin for the rest of the trip. If he can be maddening to the point of complete exasperation, well, so can I.

I see him look at me from the corner of his eye, and his lips give an infuriating twitch. Then he pulls the truck forward, whistling a happy tune, as though he has not a care in the world. I clench my teeth to keep from growling.

As we drive pasts the front of the theater, I glance out my window to meet Reid’s friendly gaze….and notice the gentle smile that graced his face before has grown.

…

The Michaels family beach house in Malibu has been transported from the pages of a storybook, adding only the wonderful modern convenience of electricity. Perched on the bluff over the ocean, the house is framed by towering trees and elegant stone work. The crashing sound of waves greets me as I step from Austin’s truck and the scent of the salty air erases all the tension and confusion from the interminable drive. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and cannot contain a small squeal of excitement.

Austin shakes his head and tromps to the front door. He unlocks it and walks through, and after a short pause on the threshold, foolishly waiting to be escorted or at the very least
welcomed
inside, I kick my shoes off at the entrance—as I have learned is a polite thing to do when entering someone’s home. Truly, twenty-first century-people have no issues with ankle viewing—and follow in his wake.

The atrium opens up into a long, wide corridor, filled with elegant touches. As I walk, I lift my head to the soaring ceiling and accidently brush against a vase of flowers atop a polished mahogany table. It wobbles, then rights itself again. Up ahead, Austin turns right at the end of the hall, but I choose to take my time, soaking in the energy and sweet scent of the space and marveling at its secrets.

Family photographs line the walls, but it takes me a moment to recognize the boy who brought me here. The frames tell a story of a different Austin, one with close-cropped hair who wore suits and collared shirts. Who won awards—
lots
of them—and who appeared very close with his family.

There is his father, interchangeably wearing a stern expression in a handful of photos and an inauthentic smile in others, and then an attractive, frail woman I assume is his mother. Her gentle spirit seems to leap out from behind the frame, and I softly touch the glass. And, of course, I recognize Jamie right away. Unlike Austin, she looks almost the same as the girl I left an hour ago, except possibly a few years younger, and appears as smiling and jovial as ever. If I had to guess, the most recent photographs are a glimpse into Austin’s world about three years ago—a time when he clearly had a much different approach to school. And fashion.

But as I stand before the wall of photographs, gaping at the transformation and wondering what could have caused it—along with why the timeline appears to stop three years ago—I notice another difference.

It’s in Austin’s eyes.

Their usual lightness, their playfulness, the sarcasm they naturally exude…it’s all gone. The hints of vulnerability I have seen mere glimpses of are there, only magnified, as well as a palpable anxiety. When the family of four is posed together, Austin is seldom by his father’s side. And when he is—like the one of them in front of a
Michaels for State Senate 2008
sign
—
the tension in his shoulders and jaw is unmistakable.

“Alessandra?”

I jump at the sound of Austin’s voice echoing off the wood surrounding me. Twisting around, feeling guilty for being caught poring over something so personal, I breathe a sigh of relief when I discover I am alone.

“Are you coming or what?”

This time I realize his voice is carrying from down the hall. Leaving the surprising peek into Austin’s past behind me, I dash around the corner and find the boy in question standing in the center of a room filled with luxurious white fabrics and a wall of windows highlighting a spectacular, deep blue ocean view.

It’s all so beautiful…

So open…

I look back at Austin.

So…
secluded
.

A nervous giggle escapes.

“Th-this is enchanting, Austin,” I say, taking a step toward him. My feet sink into the soft white carpet beneath me, and my toes practically sigh in response. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“This isn’t a date, Alessandra,” he tells me rather sharply, squelching any benevolent thoughts I may’ve had for him after seeing the family photos. “I don’t do dates. This is a challenge.”

“Of that I am well aware,” I say, forcing a smile. If I were Cat, I would toss back a witty retort, but instead I ask, “And for my first unsheltered test, what am I to do? Ride a bike? Rollerblade?”

Both of these are activities we passed on our drive through the neighborhood and Austin had to explain, adding to his opinion of my sheltered life. Although I’m unsure how I will manage riding a bike in a skirt, I am eager to try.

The corners of Austin’s mouth twitch—my first sign of fore-boding—and then he tilts his chin at the open water beyond. My eyes widen in horror.

Not possible.

He would not
dare
to take me into the ocean…would he?

My cousin has assured me, repeatedly, that water is safe now, and though I’ve been taught entering a public pool of any kind is equivalent to asking fate to bestow the plague upon you, I accept that things have changed.

But they haven’t changed
that
much.

As scandalous as this century has proven to be, this is not Sodom and Gomorrah. Surely bathing with a boy who is not your husband is still considered
highly
inappropriate?

Then a photo flashes in my mind from Jenna’s sweet sixteen albums. It’s the one Lucas found so amusing, a party with a “beach” theme where the guests arrived in
bathing suits
. Realizing that must be what Austin intends for us to wear in the water—
not
going in nude—only slightly eases my stress.

The vivid image of the guests displaying so much flesh burns brighter in my memory.

And I’m scandalized at the thought of showing my elbows!

Staring through the window at the endless water, I know I cannot simply back down from this task. The challenges will stop, and this
is
what I want. Adventure and excitement. But since bathing suits appear to be a modern social convention, I cling to the possible out with everything that exists within me.

“Sadly, Austin, I am without a swimsuit.” I sigh dramatically. Acting really does become easier with practice. “I thank you for the idea, however, as it does look refreshing. Perhaps another time?”

I offer a sweet smile, knowing that another time will never occur but not sharing that aloud. Austin smiles back. “Not a problem.” He opens a door and steps back, folding his arms. “Dad’s assistant stocks this place with guest suits, in every color and size you can imagine, all complete with the overpriced tags still on.”

He pauses, and even from my distance away, I can see the muscle throbbing in his jaw. Then he blinks, and the look from outside the theater is back in his eyes, daring me to give him another excuse. “So I repeat, not a problem.”

My head begins to throb.
Fine,
I think, even as ice shoots down my back
. I can do this.
Inhaling deeply, I briefly close my eyes.
Forgive me, Mama.

With a nod and walking tall, I push past him into the room. The door closes behind me. Not even the thick wood can hide the rich tones of Austin’s laugh.

Gritting my teeth, I stand before the small open closet and survey my options. Austin is right—every color of the rainbow is represented, all in various styles, and all of them incredibly tiny. I remember noticing in Jenna’s book that a handful of girls wore one long suit (in lieu of the itty bitty scraps of cloth the others did) and thinking if I were ever forced, at the consequence of death, to clothe myself in such a costume, that would be the style I’d choose. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, that is not an option today.