Escaping Perfect (14 page)

Until he flinched. My eyes popped open as Jasper turned around. A man with slick black hair and a bolero tie over a white shirt stood behind him.

“Jasper,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. “That song was gold. Gold! I'm so glad we took a chance and invited you back.”

“Well, thanks, Jeff, I'm glad you did too.” Jasper shook hands with the man, then put his arm around me. “Jeff Crandle, I'd like you to meet my . . . this . . . Lia. This is Lia Washington.”

Jeff and I both laughed over Jasper's clear discomfort. He
seemed like a nice man. It was all in the eyes. They were kind and bright and crinkled around the edges. When he offered his hand, I shook it happily.

“Apparently, Jasper here isn't quite sure what you are,” Jeff teased, making Jasper blush.

“It's okay. He can have a pass for tonight. This is all kinds of overwhelming,” I replied.

“Well, it's about to get even more overwhelming.” Jeff reached his thumbs inside the waistband of his jeans and hiked them up. “There's someone who wants to meet you, Jasper. Someone who only takes private meetings.”

He gave Jasper this look like he should know who he was talking about, and suddenly Jasper's jaw dropped. “What? No. He's here?”

“Yep.”

“And he wants to meet
me
?”

Clearly, this was super exciting. On par with the five-year-old me being told I was about to meet Dora the Explorer.

“Who's
he
and why are we so psyched?” I asked.

“
He
is Gary Benson, this incredibly reclusive record exec who is notoriously difficult to score a meeting with,” Jeff explained, since Jasper was apparently too beside himself to form words. “You ready?” Jeff asked, turning to Jasper. “You don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Um, yeah,” Jasper said, repositioning his hat atop his head. “Are you gonna be okay here for a bit?”

I was honestly impressed he even remembered I was there, in his distracted state. “Yeah, of course. I'll just go track down Britta and Fiona. Do you think we should go? I mean . . . will this meeting be long, or—”

“No. Don't go,” Jasper said firmly. He grasped my hand and squeezed it. “Please? I want you to be the first person to hear whatever happens.”

My heart did a giddy twirling dance. He wanted me to be the first. Not Shelby, not Charlene, not window girl. Me. “Okay, then. I'll meet you back here.”

He leaned in for another quick, firm kiss, then rolled his shoulders back and followed Jeff out the door and into the hall. I sighed and composed myself before trailing after them, determined to find Fiona and Britta, who would definitely know everything there was to know about this mysterious exec. Out in the hall I caught a couple of jealous scowls from overly made-up groupie types, but I ignored them. I was not going to think about all the girls who wanted Jasper. Not tonight. The only thing that mattered was that I wanted him. And clearly, he wanted me right back.

I moseyed down the rapidly emptying hallway, glancing into open doors as I went, and finally found Britta and Fiona,
sitting on one of the two sets of stairs that led up to the stage. Fiona's face was in her hands, and Britta's arm was around her shoulders. My spirits instantly plummeted.

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

Fiona stood at the sound of my voice. “Let's get out of here,” she muttered to the floor. Britta jumped up, shouldering her bag.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“We made a deal! You know I've liked him forever. How could you kiss him like that in front of everybody?” Fiona was so angry she was shaking. “In front of
me
?”

My throat was closing up so quickly, I couldn't find my voice.

“How could you?” she demanded.

“But Fiona,
he
kissed
me
!” I blurted.

Her face completely shut down. “Unbelievable.”

Then she brushed past me and was gone.

“Britta,” I stammered. “What just happened?”

“She said something about a pact?” Britta said, pushing her fake glasses up on her nose.

“Well . . . yeah. We said neither one of us would make a move on Jasper without telling the other first,” I said, squirming. “But I didn't! You saw what happened, right? That was all him!”

Britta sighed. “Yeah, but he's basically the love of her life, Lia. Seeing a declaration like that in person . . . it might take her a while to adjust.”

With an apologetic shrug, Britta chased after Fiona. I stood there for a long moment, wondering what I could have done differently. Should I not have gone backstage with him when he pulled me out of the crowd after the kiss? Should I have stayed to make sure Fiona was okay?

Oh, God.
Clearly
, I should have stayed to make sure Fiona was okay. But I'd been so wrapped up in the romance of the moment, in the kiss, in
Jasper
, that it hadn't even occurred to me until now.

There were many things I needed to learn about being in the real world. Apparently I could add friendship skills to the list.

Chapter Fourteen

“One southern fried chicken special
and one burger deluxe, hold the pickles.” I placed the food down on the tabletop with a broad smile. “Anything else I can get you folks?”

“You're sure happy,” the woman who'd ordered the chicken said, looking me up and down with a smile. She had hair that was grayish purple, and she wore her pink-framed glasses around her neck, held by a beaded chain. “What's your secret?”

My secret? My secret was driving from Nashville to Sweetbriar in a classic convertible with the top down under the stars. My secret was spending two hours making out on a park bench in the middle of the night with a soon-to-be-superstar, handsome-as-all-get-out cowboy who shared his
personal secrets with only me. My secret was that I was falling in love.

Jasper's meeting with Gary Benson had gone well. Right now he was meeting with an agent who might be able to negotiate some kind of deal for him. I knew zip about the music business, but it all sounded good to me, and this morning, when Jasper had stopped by my apartment, he'd been practically beside himself with excitement.

“Just having a good day, I guess,” I told her, raising my shoulders and my palms.

She and her friend laughed as I twirled away. But then my smile died. Fiona stood behind the counter, scowling. The second our eyes met, she turned her back on me and went to check on some customers.

It had been like this all afternoon. Fiona hadn't said one word to me. Not “hello,” not “hand me the sugar,” not even “you suck.” Every time I looked at her, I felt this distinct
thunk
inside my chest, like a door slamming closed. I hadn't meant to hurt her. I still wasn't entirely sure I'd done anything wrong. But she'd been so nice to me when I'd first arrived here, and ever since. I didn't want her to hate me.

But if she wouldn't even talk to me, what was I supposed to do?

I made the rounds of my various tables, refilling a coffee here, grabbing extra napkins there, then found myself with nowhere to go but behind the counter. Fiona turned around, her arms loaded down with half-empty, used dishes, and one of them bumped my hip. It crashed to the floor, shattering, and spewed tomato soup all over our shoes.

“Damn it, Lia!” Fiona shouted.

“I've got it! I've got it!” I said, grabbing a rag from under the sink.

I bent and quickly wiped off her sneaker, but it didn't help much. The tomato stain had already seeped into the white canvas. Fiona groaned, stepped over my hand and the shards of ceramic, and headed to the kitchen with the other dishes. I shakily cleaned up the mess, depositing the pieces of bowl in the garbage and mopping up the rest of the soup. At least it wiped right off my cowboy boots.

Which, I realized with a start, I still hadn't paid for.

“Way to be a klutz,” Fiona muttered upon her return.

I stood up too fast, and all the blood rushed to my head. “That wasn't my fault.”

“Well, it wasn't mine,” she shot back.

The diner went quiet. Clearly, we were being way too loud. I grabbed Fiona's arm and dragged her toward the kitchen door, which was blocked from most of the diners' views.

“Are you going to hate me forever?” I asked under my breath.

Fiona's shoulders slumped. I sensed the hint of an opening. But before I could say anything, the front door of the diner swung wide and someone let out a loud, joyous, whoop.

“I got a record deal! I
have
a
record
deal!”

It was Jasper. He stood just inside the door, his arms outstretched, his face pink with joy and apparently exertion. Beads of sweat sluiced down his forehead, and he was heaving for breath, as if he'd just run a mile to get here.

“What?” I screeched.

A few of the diners applauded as I rounded the end of the counter and flung myself into Jasper's arms. He picked me up and twirled me around.

“I can't believe it! Can you believe it?” he asked me.

“Of course I can,” I said, laughing. “I'm so happy for you.”

“We have to go out to celebrate,” he said, replacing my feet on the floor.

I looked over at Fiona. The scowl was back on. “Oh, I . . . I can't. I still have an hour left in my shift.”

“Oh, please. Fiona won't mind—right, Fi?” Jasper said, so wrapped up in his own excitement that he was oblivious to the venom seeping from the corners of Fiona's mouth. “I mean, this is huge!”

Fiona stared at Jasper and, finally, her eyes softened. “Whatever.”

With an air of defeat she pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen and disappeared.

“I really should probably stay,” I said, feeling monumentally guilty. Though the pull to be with him, to share in his big moment, was overwhelming.

“Are you kidding? Come on. She just said you could go. And what's one hour when someone's lifelong dream just came true?”

“He's right, girlie. Go!” called out the woman with the fried chicken special.

A few of the other diners chimed in.

“Go!”

“Have fun!”

“Get out of here!”

“You only live once!”

It was that comment that finally convinced me. I'd escaped so I could live my life, right? I untied my apron from around my waist, tossed it across the counter, and went.

*  *  *

When I'd agreed to go back to Jasper's house, I'd been drunk on the romance of the evening and hadn't totally registered what I was agreeing to. We'd just finished the most delicious
dinner at this adorable, candlelit restaurant where the staff waited on Jasper like he was a king, and treated me like his newly crowned queen. I hadn't eaten like that in days, hadn't felt this completely unstressed in years. So when he'd paid the check and leaned across the table and said, “Let's go hang out at my place,” I'd immediately said, “Sure.”

But now, there I was, on the porch of a tiny Victorian-style house, hoping it was too dark for him to notice my uncertainty as he unlocked the door. In the back of my mind I heard Duncan's voice, saying that this was exactly what he'd warned me would happen.

But things were different now. Jasper had kissed me in front of thousands of people, basically declaring that I was his one and only. He liked me. A lot. I knew this in my heart, no matter what Duncan's theories were.

“Well? What do you think?” Jasper asked as we stepped inside.

The first floor of the house had been converted into an open-concept apartment, with a modern kitchen at the back, a small dining area off to one side, and a living room right in front of us, which was dominated by a huge, leather couch and a flat-screen TV. Off to the right was a hallway, which I could only imagine led to the bedroom and bathroom. Which I did not want to think about.

“It's . . . nice,” I said.

He closed the door behind us and stepped up next to me, surveying the room as if he was trying to see it through my eyes.

“You sound surprised.”

“I guess I didn't . . . Do you have a job?” I asked, unable to stop myself. I'd only ever seen Jasper play onstage, and he seemed to wander the streets by day. He'd never mentioned any sort of job. And yet here he was with his own, very swank apartment.

Jasper laughed. “That's right, you don't know.” He walked around the couch, the back of which faced the entry, and dropped down onto its comfy-looking cushions. “When I'm not taking classes at Freemont, I'm an assistant music teacher.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. Jasper arched one eyebrow at me. “Wait. What?” I said.

“I teach music at the middle school and go to Freemont College,” he said. “The year ended before you got here, so you caught me during my months of leisure.”

“Oh. Wow.”

I hovered behind the couch, toying with my own fingers as I tried to reconcile this new picture of Jasper as a respon­sible student and state employee with the picture I already had of a roguish singing cowboy. I didn't hate the combination.

“I'm working on getting my teaching certificate, but they
let me teach part-time in the meanwhile 'cause I'm just that good with a guitar,” he said.

I nodded, and he turned in his seat, folding his arms on the back of the couch to look up at me. “So are you gonna join me over here, or what?”

“Oh. Sure.”

I walked around the couch and sat next to him. Jasper let his arm fall around my shoulders, pulled me toward him with one hand, and kissed me, drawing my legs across his lap with his free hand. Suddenly I was very aware of every inch of my body. I was also very aware of how alone we were. How I'd never been this alone with a guy before. And how he'd been this alone with other girls. Many, many other girls.

As difficult as it was for my throbbing heart to understand, I pulled away.

“What's wrong?” Jasper asked.

“Nothing, I just . . .” I stared down at my lap, not wanting to ruin the moment, but unable to get the images out of my head. That girl leaning out the window the first day we met, Charlene waiting outside what was now clearly her apartment a couple of nights ago, Shelby warning me to stay away, Fiona's brokenhearted tears. And Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. I took a breath. “I just want to make sure that I'm the person you want to be here with.”

“What?” he asked, leaning back. I noticed his lips were a bit swollen from the kiss. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, you could have anyone. Shelby, Charlene, all the girls at the concert last night, half the girls in town . . .”

You
have
had them,
I thought but didn't say.

“Lia, you have to believe me. All that's over now,” Jasper said, putting his hand on my knee. “I mean it. I know it might be fast, but you have this crazy effect on me. I can't explain it, I just . . . all I want is to be with you.”

My heart swelled, but still I scoffed. Because how could this be possible? How could what he was saying really be true? He'd known me for less than a week—not counting those couple days when we were little—which he didn't technically know about.

“Hey? Who did I come to see the second I got the news today? Who did I kiss in front of all those people last night? You're the one I want to be with, and I don't care who knows it. I want
everyone
to know it.”

My lips twitched into a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said. “You, Lia Washington, are the only girl I want.”

He pulled me in for a hug, and I rested my head against his shoulder with a sigh. For a moment I felt perfectly content, but then the doubt began to creep in. I knew that
Jasper believed what he had said, but he didn't actually know what he was saying. I may have been the only one he wanted, but he didn't even know me. Not the real me.

Jasper held my face in his hands. “Why do you look like you're about to cry?”

I lifted my shoulders. “Happy, I guess.”

He smiled and kissed me on the lips. “Good. Because I'm happy too. Everyone should be this happy.”

Letting his hands fall to our laps, where they found and held mine, Jasper kissed me again, for real this time. The longer we kissed, the closer we moved to each other, the more the pounding of my heart intensified, and the easier it was to sweep my doubts to the furthest corners of my mind.

This was the real me now. Lia Washington was all I could be. Cecilia Montgomery was dead.

Or, at least, disappeared.

Spurred by a heady mix of freedom and desperation, I straddled Jasper on the couch, my knees pressing into the back cushions. He let out a surprised, but definitely pleased, sound and slid his hands around my back. I could feel him fumbling along the neckline of the dress, looking for a zipper or buttons, but it wasn't that kind of dress. It was more of a slip-on, slip-off kind of thing.

I imagined myself standing up and pulling the dress off
over my head, letting it pool on the floor, and standing in front of him in nothing but my lacy Target underwear. That was when I suddenly felt the need to come up for air. Again.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked.

“Fine. Fine,” I said, nodding. “I, um . . . I just . . . I've never done this before.”

“Made out on a couch?” he asked, his brain clearly fogged over.

“I mean, I've never . . .” I cleared my throat.

“Really?” Every muscle in his body tensed, then suddenly slumped. “Oh. Okay, then.” He sort of nudged me off his lap, and I ended up awkwardly sliding down his thigh until my butt hit the couch; then I had to extricate my legs from his. He drew a throw pillow into his lap and held it there tightly, like it was a life preserver. “So . . . we should talk about that.”

“We don't have to.” I was so unsure of what to do with my hands, I ended up sitting on them. “I mean, I just figured you should know.”

“Well, we can, you know, go slow, if you want to,” Jasper said.

He couldn't even look me in the eye. We'd gone from being closer than close to having a black hole yawn open between us.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to do,”
Jasper told me, his voice clear, as if he was adjusting to the idea.

I tilted my head. All I knew was I was much happier five seconds ago when he was looking for a way to get my dress off.

“Well, I didn't say there weren't other things I wanted to do,” I said flirtatiously.

He shot me a hopeful look and then smiled. “That sounds promising.”

I grabbed his protective pillow, tossed it away, and settled myself back onto his lap. Jasper pulled me into the deepest but somehow gentlest kiss imaginable. After that, everything was a hazy, sweet, romantic blur.

*  *  *

I woke up cuddled back into Jasper's arms on Thursday morning, one week after my arrival in Sweetbriar, wearing one of his oversize white T-shirts. The sun slanted through the half-covered windows, and the birds outside were just beginning their morning song. I closed my eyes and tried to relax myself back to sleep, but I couldn't. What did people do in this situation? Should I get up? Wait for him to wake up? But now that I was fully awake, I realized his elbow was kind of digging into my side.