Hey Sunshine (12 page)

And then when he looked at me in that certain way, another feeling originated much farther south, causing me to clench my thighs together and reach out a hand to steady myself against my car so I wouldn’t give away the shakiness of my legs.

In a perfect world, he would be oblivious to his effect on me, but I was certain that almost nothing went unnoticed by Fox.

He volunteered to babysit your kid, and now he wants to help you unload groceries?
My mind was on overdrive. Was this guy for real? For a brief second, my thoughts flashed to Chase and the last thing he’d said to me before heading off on his boys’ weekend.

“Babe, don’t forget to pick up my dry cleaning while I’m gone, okay? You’re the best.”

I rolled my eyes when I remembered his light, happy walk as he strolled to his SUV, eager to get out of town and drink beers with his buddies at the cabin. He was completely unconcerned with anything I had going on or obligations he might be piling on top of my already stacked load. He knew ‘my life was hard,’ as he’d so delicately put it, but he still didn’t seem to care. And now here was Fox, not only noticing but wanting to help.

I felt a familiar wave of uncertainty and defensiveness wash over me.
I must look so stupid to him, trying to keep all these balls in the air while my immature boyfriend is off gallivanting with his high-school pals.
“Most Organized” didn’t need anyone to help her. The idea of him pitying me was unbearable, and I couldn’t allow it.

“No thank you, I’ll be just fine,” I said, my voice clipped.

Fox’s brow furrowed as he took in the change in my demeanor. One second I was practically melting into a Fox-sicle, and the next I was giving him the brush-off. He probably thought I was a lunatic, but I’d be damned if I’d take any more of his sympathetic aid.

Fox cocked his head to one side, studying me. “Did I say something wrong? I’m just trying to–”

“I know, I know, ‘help me out.’ But I don’t need it, so thanks anyway.” I turned quickly and moved to open the driver’s side door, but Fox shot his hand out and held it shut.

All I wanted was to get in my car, slam the door, drive off, and never have to see that concerned look in his eyes again. It reminded me of things I couldn’t help, of actions I couldn’t undo, and choices I couldn’t remake. I felt tears pricking the corners of my own eyes and I squeezed them shut, both to block out the sight of his beautiful, confused face, and also to try and hold back the emotions I apparently couldn’t control. With my eyes closed tight, I took a deep breath and counted to three before I opened them, hoping I’d suddenly be alone in the parking lot with Annabelle.

No such luck.

“Shit, Avery. I’m sorry.” Fox lifted his hand from the door, allowing me access. Even though I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there and go feel sorry for myself in a pint of ice cream, I hesitated.

“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t handle it. I know you can; you do. I’ve seen it.” Fox spoke cautiously once he realized I wasn’t going to run, his voice low and full of palpable sincerity. He dragged a frustrated hand through his hair.

I slumped against the car. “I know you were just trying to help me. I’m sorry I overreacted. I–”
I don’t want you to feel sorry for me
, I continued in my head.
I want you to think I’m self-sufficient and smart and amazing. I want you to wrap your arms around me and make me forget everything that isn’t you.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I just stood there with my ice cream melting in the grocery bags, my baby snoring softly in her car seat, and my oblivious, self-centered boyfriend forty miles and ten beers away. I shook my head at myself in disgust.
Who wants all of this? Why was he bothering?
A crazy girl with a toddler and an unfinished degree in dreaming probably didn’t top most guys’ wish lists.

Fox shifted uncomfortably, bringing my focus back to him. “I have something I want to show you, okay? So I’m going to ask one more time. Please, let me follow you home and help you get settled in tonight. I know you don’t need it, but it’ll make me feel better.” He opened my car door slowly, like I was a frightened deer about to bolt.

What was I doing? Fox obviously wanted to be my friend. Since when had I decided there were too many people in my life who cared about me, about Annabelle?
Put your ego aside, Avery, and let the guy be nice to you
.

“Okay,” I said.

Fox looked surprised but pleased, which made me feel horrible for doubting his intentions. “Okay? Okay, good.”

When we reached my house, Fox pulled the diner’s pickup behind my car and started unloading groceries while I carried Annabelle inside and put her to bed. She was exhausted and limp, barely stirring as I changed her into pajamas and tucked her in.

I came back into the kitchen just as Fox was unpacking the last of the bags. “You didn’t have to do all that,” I said, hiding a smile as I watched his big hands carefully placing apples and oranges in my fruit bowl.

He turned at the sound of my voice. I stood very still, conscious of his eyes on me. I’d swept my hair into a messy bun and kicked off my shoes in Annabelle’s room, and one side of my shirt had slipped down over my shoulder, exposing the thin strap of the tank I wore underneath. I felt his gaze zero in on that exposed skin, and a flush crept up my neck to my cheeks.

Nervously, I cleared my throat and the moment was gone. Fox smiled neutrally and shrugged. “Your ice cream was melting.”

I crossed purposefully to the fridge, trying to shake the feeling of those eyes on my bare skin. “Do you want a soda or something? I didn’t have dinner, so I’m starving. But maybe you ate with Annabelle…” I trailed off, realizing I was rambling. His intensity was unnerving in a crowd but alone it was magnified times ten thousand. It would take a lifetime for me to get used to that.

He won’t be here that long,
I remembered.
He told you that himself, he wasn’t here to stay, he’s just passing through.

“No thanks.” Fox looked at me curiously, like he could imagine everything I was thinking.

Lord, I hoped not.

“Make yourself at home.” I gestured to my little kitchen table and he sat, snagging an apple out of the bowl.

I quickly finished making my turkey sandwich and sat across from him. My eyes automatically admired the big, even bites he took from his apple before I caught myself and awkwardly looked away.

Fox reached into his messenger bag on the floor and pulled out his tablet. Propping it on the table, he tapped the screen a few times and turned it toward me.

“I made this tonight.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect when Fox said he had something to show me, but this definitely wasn’t on the list of possibilities I’d considered.

The screen went dark then brightened slowly to focus on a small hand that I recognized as Annabelle’s. Only her little fingers gripping the crayon were visible, the surroundings blurred, and then the scene flashed over to Joy, smiling warmly, her pen behind her ear. Then a long-distance shot of Billy’s profile, singing in the kitchen, just a snippet of his voice carrying out to the tables. Back to Annabelle, her face hidden almost entirely by a huge glass of milk, her eyes visible over the top. Then a french-fry castle, held together with toothpicks, and ketchup for the moat.

From there it went to a quick shot of the darkening sky from the window of the diner, the sun low and the clouds on fire, and skipped quickly to a perspective right over Annabelle’s shoulder, her blond curls resting against her cheek, and her sweet laughter as she looked back at whoever was holding the camera, which must’ve been Fox.

The entire video lasted probably only twenty-five seconds, but it took my breath away. The timing, the angles, the filters were all so beautiful, and it looked professional. The ebb and flow of the scenes and the careful editing turned a few moments in a rural Texas diner into a piece of art.

Fox was watching me carefully for my reaction, and when I just sat there, he made a move to reach for the tablet. That jolted me out of my shock, and I waved his hand away and played the video again. And then once more after that. Only after watching it for the third time did I feel like I could form a coherent thought.

“Fox, this is amazing. I don’t– I’m not–” So much for coherency. I should just stop trying.

He sat back in his chair, a relieved look on his face. “You like it?”

“Like it? It’s wonderful.” I searched my brain to remember the phrase one of my professors had used for a certain photojournalist he admired. “It’s extraordinarily ordinary.”

A strange expression passed over Fox’s features, and then he smiled at me. “Exactly.”

We stared at each other for a moment longer than what would be considered normal, and I was the first to look away, like always.

Fox cleared his throat. “I was a little concerned about filming Annabelle without your permission. I can delete the clip if it bothers you at all.”

That thought had never even occurred to me while I watched Fox’s montage. I pondered it for just a moment before I realized I already knew my answer. “No. I trust you.” And I did, intuitively. It was so unlike me to feel that way – constantly waffling between the logic of the situation and my own instinct. But I really thought Fox was probably the most honorable person I’d ever met.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” he said.

I wanted to analyze his response but I went ahead with my other thought instead. “Will you give me a copy? I’d love to have it.”
And play it a couple hundred times over and over, wondering what was going on in your head when you basically made a movie montage of my life.

Surprise and then pleasure flashed over Fox’s features. “Of course. I can email it to you?”

I glanced into the hallway where my ancient desktop computer perched precariously on a small end table. The screen saver flickered in the semi-darkness, mainly because I was afraid if I turned it completely off, it would never power back up again. I hated using that thing; with my ridiculous dial-up internet connection and plodding processor speed, it took forever to get anything done. Usually I did most of my research and paper-writing at the diner, using my father’s newer PC and actual cable internet.

As a primarily online student, I was severely in the minority with my shoddy equipment, but I made it work. A (likely used) laptop was on my list of things to buy when money fell out of the sky, along with about a bazillion other items deemed pure luxury.

Fox followed my gaze with a raised eyebrow. That one eyebrow could stand for about fifteen different sentences, and I’d seen him use it a lot. This time the eyebrow signified something along the lines of “I’m not sure why this is a complicated question.”

Oh, Fox. You should know by now that “Most Organized” is nothing if not a complicated girl.

I smiled sheepishly. “Sure, you can try.”

Fox pointed over to my computer. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

I made a gesture indicating that I did not. He rose from his seat smoothly and ambled his way over to the monitor with his usual big catlike grace. He spent about twenty seconds poking around before he raised his head and grinned at me.

“You need a new computer.”

I rolled my eyes. “No shit.”

Fox straightened up and returned to his seat at the table. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen a few times before handing it to me. “Here, give me your email address.”

Taking the phone from him, I was pleased to see that he already had me listed as a contact with my phone number.
Probably just for diner stuff
, I told myself.
Don’t get too excited
. I typed my email address in quickly and handed the phone back to him.

Fox glanced at the microwave clock. “I should probably get going,” he said, but he didn’t move from his seat.

The glowing numbers indicated we’d been sitting together in my kitchen for almost an hour, but it felt like just a few minutes. I didn’t want him to leave either, but I wasn’t sure how long it was appropriate for him to stay. He’d done what he came for – helped with groceries, showed me the video – and now it was late and he was right, it probably was time for him to go.

“Or you could stay.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized it. “I was going to watch TV for a while before I went to bed. You could join me,” I rambled. Then I realized what I’d just said. “Watching TV, I mean. Of course. Not in bed.” The amount of time I spent blushing around this man was truly staggering.

“Of course.” The dimple taunted me from across the table.

A minute later we were sitting a few feet apart on my couch while I nervously flipped channels to find something that might be interesting to Fox. The extreme proximity to him was unsettling as usual, but at the same time I found myself missing it when he wasn’t nearby.

Not good, Avery,
I reminded myself.
He’s not your boyfriend. Don’t forget that.
As if I could. Lately, my actual boyfriend left a lot to be desired.

I finally settled on one of the
Rocky
movies – the second one, if I wasn’t mistaken. Definitely the first or second, because Stallone looked young and relatively unscathed.

“Is this okay?” My usual late-night go-to was
The Notebook
, but I felt it wasn’t especially applicable to this situation.

“You like
Rocky
?” Fox turned to me with an interested expression.

“Sure, who doesn’t? I’m not a super-fan or anything, but my dad loves these movies. ‘Yo, Adrian’ and all that. In fact, I narrowly escaped being an Adrian instead of an Avery, but my mom intervened,” I admitted.

Fox regarded me thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine you as an Adrian,” he said. “I can only see Avery.”

His last sentence made my body tingle and the little hairs on my arms stand at attention. Unconsciously, we’d leaned toward each other. His hand rested a few inches from mine, the heat radiating off it and urging me to move the short distance to find out how his fingers would feel in mine. His pupils were dilated, his gaze intent. The familiar electricity that was always present between us crackled and snapped in the air. His green eyes caught me and held, and my breath hitched. I pulled away slightly, overwhelmed with the energy, but he didn’t move.