Back to You (5 page)

John fussed with his dirty blond mop of hair, but realized it was hopeless – he was no Danny. This was as good as it was going to get.

Sophie looked amazing in her red gown, her lips red and luscious. Her sleek black hair flowing over her shoulders, a white flower pinned over her right ear – he just wanted to eat her up.

“So what do you think, John?” she asked, twirling for him.

He was silent and open-mouthed.

“I’ll take that as good,” she said with a smirk.

“Yes, I think he likes it,” Gloria chimed in with a smile.

“I…I got you a corsage,” he stammered, fumbling with the box, trying to open it with shaking hands.

Sophie smiled. “Geez… why are you acting so nervous, Johnny?” she asked. “It’s just a dance.”

Maybe it was to her, but not to him.

He carefully placed the corsage on her wrist, lingering there just a little longer than he needed to. “It matches with the one in your hair.”

“Let me take a picture,” Gloria insisted. “You two are so adorable.”

And with a click-click of the camera, an awkward moment of teenage angst was recorded into history.

It had been a fun night; they had danced, they had giggled like the old friends they were, and they had certainly drunk their fill of spiked punch. John thought it was going pretty well – he thought he might have a chance.

“Let’s get out of here,” he pressed, pulling her by the hand. They ran to the fields behind the school – jock territory. They ran and ran, and finally out of breath, they stopped and stood under the moonlight, smiling at each other.

She was the first one to speak. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” he said. “Thanks for coming,” he said softly, his gaze focused on her lips.

“Anything for my best friend,” she offered. There was that horrible word again – ‘friend’.

He took a deep breath. “I see you as more than my friend, Snow,” he finally admitted.

She gave him a tiny smile, flustered. “But I… I think…”

And then he leaned in… and kissed her; and awkward fumbling kiss which hadn’t lasted too long, as he soon realized it hadn’t been met with enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his head down, not able to even look at her.

“It’s okay, John,” she told him. “It’s just that… we’re friends.”

“Yes… friends,” he grumbled.

“You’re almost like a brother,” she added, which did not help at all. “And besides, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s that?” he asked, curious. She wasn’t marrying that brute Danny, he hoped. They hadn’t even been that serious.

“I’m going away to New York in the fall… NYU,” she told him with a gleam in her eyes.

“Wow,” he whispered, his heart sinking a little. “That’s pretty far.”

“I know,” she agreed. “I’ll miss you so much.”

But not as much as I’ll miss you
, he thought.

John shook his head, trying to erase the painful memory from his head. These days, he didn’t have these sorts of problems. He had women hanging off him. He could often sense their eyes on him. All it took was a look and a smile, and they would make their way to him, full of not-so-virtuous intentions. He wasn’t the type of man to go to bed often with women. The few times he did, they had fallen deeply for him, but he hadn’t fallen for them. Unfortunately, no woman had ever had the same effect on him as Sophie had, not even his ex-wife Jennie.

***

Sophie tried to relax in the sudsy warm bath water, going over the day’s events in her mind. This close proximity to John was starting to wear on her. He was slowly making himself a constant presence in her life – in all their lives. Even Jesse had taken a liking to him. Not that this presented a huge problem. It was just that she had to be careful – she certainly couldn’t get too involved with him and fall in love.

She hadn’t been affected by a man since Marcus’ passing and it was a very foreign feeling.

And she knew she wasn’t staying here forever. Once September came, she would be on her way back to her old life – and Jesse too. But there had been a small glitter of happiness in Jesse’s eyes, a flicker of hope. She hadn’t seen him in such high spirits in a long, long time. He liked it here on the coast.

But still, she had to try to stay away from John. If she loved him, she would probably eventually lose him. It’s what seemed to happen to all the men she loved.

He had offered to take her to this antique market the next day since he was familiar with the place and its vendors.

But after that, she told herself she would officially stay away.

She studied the broken tiles and the moldy corners of the bathtub wall as she trailed her finger along the cold edge of the worn 1960s era bathtub – she knew the bathroom would definitely need to be redone. She pictured and old claw-footed tub replica, with sterling detailed feet. She pictured herself leaning back in this new tub…. ah… wonderful…

Then she closed her eyes and pictured John.

Chapter 6

JOHN and his men were doing all the hard work – the new roof, the painting, the new flooring, and Sophie got to do all the fun stuff.

She had taken a few trips to the city to pick out some new furniture and accessories – nothing too expensive since they had a strict budget to adhere to. But the majority of the old stuff had to go. Most of it was horrendous, and dated the house with its mere presence.

Sophie and her mother had carefully rummaged through all the house contents, keeping important mementos, and giving the rest of the stuff to the local charity shop. It had been a trying experience – so many old memories suddenly inching their way back to the present.

“Are you all ready?” John asked as he stepped into the kitchen, wearing one of his many faded plaid shirts over a body hugging white tee – so simple, yet so effective – he didn’t even have to try.

Sophie tried not to stare, despite really wanting to.

“Hi Jesse,” John offered with a smile. “What are you up to today?” he asked casually.

Jesse shrugged, looking up from his book. “Just reading.”

“You seem to always have your nose buried in a book,” John pointed out, looking out the door. “Do you realize what a nice day it is?’ he asked, not waiting for an answer. “Not many like this around here. You should come with us.”

“Antique shopping?” Jesse scoffed.

“Why not?” Sophie asked “That’s a great idea. Thank you for suggesting it, John.” She thanked him again with a smile.

Jesse frowned as best as he could. “I don’t know, Mom,” he protested. “Sounds lame.”

“You’re going. End of discussion.”

Geez, she wondered, when had she started to sound like such a Mom?

They rode in John’s beast of a truck, Jesse sitting in the back, not saying much, as usual. Sophie wasn’t sure if this was just a phase he was going through – a tween thing? Or maybe it had to do with his father’s death – he had stopped being his old happy-go-lucky self around that time, about two years ago.

“You don’t look too happy, Jesse,” John pointed out. “Mothers… always making you do things against your will,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “Just be glad, she’s not making you mow the lawn,” he went on, but was only greeted with silence and an apologetic smile from Sophie, “or organize your socks or something,” he joked. “That’s the kind of thing your mother would do.”

That one had Jesse laughing. “So true,” he chuckled. “You must know my Mom real well.”

“Stop laughing at my expense,” Sophie scolded both of them, mildly annoyed, but also quite happy to see Jesse laughing.

And she shot John a smile, which he definitely noticed.

They arrived at ‘The Old Red Barn’, the place John had suggested. Apparently it had the best selection of junk. John wasn’t sure if his idea of junk was in any way similar to Sophie’s idea of junk. He hoped she would like it.

The place was an old farm house and barn, which had probably seen better days. An old tin sign hung beside the door, barely discernable from the road – one had to know about this place – it was almost like a secret club.

John held the door for Sophie and Jesse. And when Sophie made her way in, she seemed delighted. The chaos of colors, textures, and vintage pieces overwhelmed him, but she seemed to be delighted by it all – she was like a kid in a candy shop. She hopped over to the vintage lamps and the old antique signs.

“This is perfect for what I’m planning,” she noted, running over to the gigantic old antique clock, which appeared to be circa 1950s, and way too large, in John’s opinion.

“I just have to have it,” she almost sang, hopping up and down like a school girl. “This place is amazing, John.”

John smiled at her, completely uninterested in all the treasures surrounding him, but only in her. 

His eyes lingered on her for a while, watching her. She seemed amazed by all she was seeing – feeling textures, looking at price tags, reaching up for things and looking up at him (he had a good eight inches on her) when she couldn’t reach something. She hadn’t fussed too much today – her hair in a sleek ponytail, tight jeans and a white t-shirt, flat sneakers and a hint of makeup. And yet, she was so beautiful.

“I think all the best stuff is here,” John pointed out, toying around with an old vintage box, studying its details, trying to distract himself and desperately trying not to stare at her. “There’s the barn out back with the shabby stuff, and the big pieces,” he told her, “if you’re looking for large armoires or beds.”

Surprisingly, Jesse was kind of fascinated as well, looking in a million directions, but trying to appear aloof.

Sophie checked out an old rustic beach wood coffee table accentuated with large black nail heads. She didn’t seem to care about the price – she just had to have it.

“That seems overpriced to me,” John pointed out.

Sophie laughed. “You obviously haven’t been to antique shops in New York. Everything in this place in the middle of nowhere is such a deal,” she told him. “You think we could fit this in the back of your truck?”

“Yep,” he replied. “But I could make you one like that for a lot cheaper.”

She smiled. “Thanks, but I think you have enough on your plate.”

“Jesse seems fascinated with the old radios,” John pointed out.

“He’s always been a mechanical kind of boy,” Sophie explained, looking over an old ceramic pitcher.

John looked at the boy, who reminded him of himself at that age – they had similar personalities. He liked Jesse – he was a smart kid. Probably a little lonely too, John figured. He decided he would try to help him out with that.

“How old do think this is?” Jesse asked John, turning the old radio’s tuner.

“I don’t know,” John said, “maybe 1940s.”

“It’s pretty cool.”

Sophie joined them, and recruited them to carry a few things, including the giant clock.

She had picked out quite a few finds, leaving them with the shop owner, who took a liking to her instantly.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the elderly man offered with a smile.

“We’re from out of town,” she explained, “…just visiting.” The words reminded John of the reality of their situation, and he hoped he would be able to keep on track.

“Have you been out back,” the shop owner asked. “There’s lots of stuff back there.”

“We’ll go take a look right now,” she promised with a friendly smile.

The old barn wasn’t quite as nice as the farm house – it was filthy, chaotic, cramped and dark. Old eerie paintings and large wagon wheels hung on the walls. A weird gothic sculpture caught Sophie’s attention – the gargoyle sitting atop it seemed to stare right at her. Sophie was happy she wasn’t alone. “I’m kind of glad you’re here John,” she confessed, inching towards him. “This place kind of creeps me out.”

Jesse didn’t seem to have a problem with the surroundings, running towards an old decapitated Go-cart car, far off in the distance.

“Oh no…” she shrieked, pressing her hand to her mouth. “He’s not going to sit in that thing,” she asked, terrified. “It’s probably full of spiders.”

John looked at her and smiled. He always seemed so amused by her. “Let him be a boy.”

He inched closer to her. “I forbid you to go over there and stop him,” he whispered, grabbing a soft hold of her wrist. The heat of his touch sent shivers through her.

He stood close, looking only at her. She got lost in his smell – the fresh clean scent smell of soap. He gently let go of her wrist. She wished he hadn’t.

“This place is straight out of a Stephen King novel,” she whispered.

“Do you need me to hold your hand,” he teased, letting his finger touch hers. Just.

Yes… 

“No,” she laughed. “Of course not.”

They made their way to Jesse who had already gotten up from the car to investigate further.

“I gather you’re not a big fan of this place,” John said.

“I don’t know…” she mused. “It’s kind of dirty and unkempt.”

“Kind of like me,” he joked with a wink.

She smiled. She agreed but somehow, she liked it on him – a lot.

“I know you don’t like dirty and unkempt,” he pointed out. “You’re all about the sanitizer and clean pressed clothes,” he added, opening the drawers of an old dresser.

“What’s wrong with a little ironing?’ she asked, looking at an armoire, her fingers trailing the details of its intricate carvings.

“What’s the point?” he asked, “…when it’s just going to get wrinkled again.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you also never make your bed.”

He smiled. A slow, delicious smile. “I do actually. I make my bed every morning,” he said, with a hint of surprise in his voice. “I guess that’s kind of ironic.”

She liked the thought of him in his bed. There she was again, trying to picture him in ways she shouldn’t be picturing him. She knew she was being bad, yet she forged on.

“Uh…what…” she stammered, “what kind of bed do you have?” she asked, sitting down on an old vintage trunk.

He looked at her, slightly puzzled. “A good old fashioned bed made of maple,” he said, studying her features. “I made it myself actually.”

“You did. You’re a carpenter?’ she asked, trying to steer the direction of her thoughts to safer ground.

“Yes,” he told her “It’s a hobby of mine,” he added, taking a seat next to her on the giant trunk. His sudden close proximity sent her heart into overdrive.

“You should show me some time,” she suggested, trying to even her breathing. “I would love to see.”

“I’d love to show you,” he said with that trouble-making smile. That wicked smile of his had a way of eradicating all functioning thoughts from her mind – with the exception of one – sex.

“And what kind of bed do you have, Snow?” he asked in a soft voice, and that look in his eyes – that look that said ‘
I’m going to have some fun with you, and you’re going to like it.’

Oh… this was happening, was it? He wanted to play a little game – and she was certainly willing.

She looked off in the distance to make sure Jesse was out of ear-shot, and saw he was busy toying around with some vintage toy planes.

“It’s low to the ground,” she started, “King size. You can really move around on that bed,” she went on, taking delight in his smile as she spoke. “The headboard is quilted dark leather, very contemporary,” she went on, describing the bed in detail so he could fully imagine her in it – and even himself – if he so wished. “The headboard is tall, almost goes to the ceiling,” she continued. Her words were meant to excite him, but she was exciting herself.

“And sturdy, I bet,’ he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, “very sturdy.” If she had had the ability to wink, she would have winked right there. John was so darn good at it – why couldn’t she do it. It was so unfair. “It’s covered with a fluffy purple comforter with tulip design embroidery.”

John smiled a slow smile, closing his eyes. Yes… he had fallen into her trap – he was imagining them together, in her bed.

“Sounds really comfortable,” he said slowly opening his eyes.

Um…..

“Actually, it’s not,” she confessed. “It’s so uncomfortable. I hate it. I hate having to crouch down all the time. The mattress is hard as a rock.”

Well… there went the illusion.

John laughed. “Why don’t you get a new bed?”

“Are you kidding? I paid about ten thousand dollars for the darn thing.”

His eyes widened. “Are you insane?”

They both laughed.

“My bed barely cost me anything and it’s great,” he said, still laughing.

“Comfy?” she asked with a teasing smile.

He looked at her for the longest time, his eyes intense. Suddenly, the air got hotter, and the barn and all its contents seemed to close in on her.

“Real comfy,” he whispered. “You would love it.”

However good she had been at the witty flirty banter, those few words had rendered her completely speechless. And she knew from the way he was looking her that he was fully aware of that. The silence was smothering, and the tension was palpable as the heat in her rose to impossible levels.

“Is it just me,” he finally said, “or is it suddenly real hot in here?”

“It’s hot,” she answered, all business. This was going too far.

“Um… speaking of beds,” she added, attempting to change the subject and cool off. “We should go check out those vintage steel headboards I spotted at the back. They’d be perfect.”

Sophie picked out two matching wrought iron twin headboards for a steal. One of the rooms housed twin beds, which were at present, covered with plain blue blankets, but otherwise bare. She had already picked out matching quilted comforter sets complete with white eyelet detailed bed skirts. She was trying to achieve an inviting and charming mood – a whimsical vintage feel – somewhere one would want to curl up and read a good book.