Vision (4 page)

“Where are you taking me?” I smiled, noticing
the subtle eye scan up and down the length of my body, sending my
heart into flutters.

“My goal is to be alone with you and simply
stare.” He grinned. “You’ll see.” He started the car, heading down
the M11 into London. We made small talk, mostly about school. I was
nervous while he seemed confident, so I chatted more than usual to
come off relaxed.

Andre reserved a private dining area in the
penthouse of The Promenade at The Dorchester, usually for larger
parties, but tonight there was just the two of us with a team of
servers who all seemed to know him well.

“Wow. This is…amazing,” was all I could
muster as he pulled my chair out.

His sideways grin made me swoon. “You are
amazing, pretty girl.”

He arranged for a string quartet to play
quietly on the other side of the room, allowing us to talk together
softly without our voices carrying. This was like a real, live date
– and the first of its kind I had been on. There was no courting in
Portland. Guys there never left home without wearing ragged jeans
and a date meant “hanging out” with the goal of “hooking up” for
sex. If more than minimum effort was required, it just wasn’t
happening. Andre, on the other hand, was a well-coutoured
gentleman, treating me like a true lady. Corny, but refreshing.

Layla, where hath your senses retreated?

Turns out we had a private chef who worked
with Andre to plan the entire menu. The meal was exquisite. Roast
duck with chutney sauce and roasted basil, potatoes Roesti, sautéed
vegetables and dark chocolate mousse – a culinary orgasm.

Afterwards we walked around the area, ducking
between two buildings when the clouds burst open. We laughed hard,
breathless, until he used the length of his body to gently press me
against the cool stone exterior. “Let’s do this now instead of
waiting.” His mouth was cool and taunting, causing a forbidden ache
to travel south from my lips. He started soft and slow, but the
pressure and intensity increased until I could barely breathe.

Mine.

What was that? Did he say something?

Delicious.

Egad! Andre was telegraphing while we
kissed.

Mine, like a drug.

Yes, that was definitely a read.

But instead of feeling relief about the
breakthrough, an alarm chimed being referred to as a drug. I was
officially confused, possibly stupid.

I gently pushed him off me and told him it
was getting late, and requested we head home, which he did
reluctantly, with the promise of another date. His words, not
mine.

Later while engaging in a staring contest
with the ceiling, the mixed signals he had sent ricocheted between
my left and right brain like a ping-pong match, conflicting
emotions between his smooth skills folding into his possessive
thoughts. What did I know? Maybe guys thought like that when they
kissed. With little experience in these matters, I felt
clueless.

Maybe Stuart was right…I really didn’t know
Andre all that well.

The phone woke me at two in the morning.
Someone forgot the time difference and would pay dearly for waking
me. When my eyes gained a semblance of focus, the caller ID showed
HOME. Portland.

It was about, what six in the evening there?
Probably Dad. I tried in vain to clear the rasp from my throat.
“Hello?”

“Don’t date that boy.”

“Liz?”

“No, it’s your mother.” She detested me
calling her by her first name, but she didn’t deserve the title of
Mom generally reserved for actual, well, mothers.

“What is it?” My response was frozen. “It’s
two here…Mom.” I tagged on her desired name with sleepy
sarcasm.

“Don’t date the boy you were with tonight.”
Her tone was matter of fact, aloof. The usual.

“How in the hell did you know? Did the
Brown’s call you? Stuart?” Now I was awake.

“No one called, just trust me, please. This
one time, listen to me.” Her voice shifted, assuming a pleading
edge - not her usual style.

“Liz, you better explain what is going on or
I’ll hang up.” My heart was lively beneath the chest wall. Everyone
was acting so bloody cryptic and giving me orders. I hated it.

“Layla, I promise I’ll explain soon. Just
stay away from – Andre.”

“Mom!” But she hung up. Like that, she
disconnected another conversation, leaving unfinished business
lingering between us.

Such an infuriating woman – she didn’t even
ask me how I was doing.

But that wasn’t the real elephant in the
room. How in holy hell did she know about Andre? She pretended like
the information materialized in thin air, but I knew better.

Fairchild.

“Layla, for god’s sake it’s just past two.”
He didn’t appreciate the call, but too bad.

“Why did you tell her, Stuart? It’s none of
your business.” My feet dangled from the edge of the tall bed,
ankles vibrating side to side with nervous energy.

“Tell who what? What are you prattling
about?” His sleepy voice was super sexy, and I ignored the urge to
pull him through the phone.

And then my heart sank. Ah, jeez.

He wouldn’t need to explain himself further,
because he hadn’t said anything to anyone – the innocent tone was
unhidden, truthful. He called no one.

He wouldn’t even have access to my family
phone numbers. Like an idiot the only words left in my limited
vocabulary were “Never mind” as I snapped the phone shut.

The next morning I casually asked Patrice if
she had called my mom for any reason, to which she replied, “Of
course not, dear.”

While dressing I contemplated recent events.
England. Stuart. Andre. Date. Stuart’s warning. I go anyway. Great
night, except for the creepy narcotic reference. Liz calls. Forbids
me to see Andre. She knows his name. She knows we were together.
Stuart didn’t call her. The Brown’s didn’t call her.

That only left two possibilities.

Someone was lying, or…someone was spying on
me.

CHAPTER SIX

The rain poured relentlessly all day Sunday.
Sienna and I embraced pajama attire, hibernating with homework in
her much larger bedroom, drinking gallons of coffee and hot
chocolate, sometimes in combination while alternating salty snack
runs downstairs. My phone was completely shut off, reflecting my
anti-social mood and determination to stay focused on school.

And – no more boys.

At some point we both spaced out, likely from
information overload, lying back on our respective pillows while
munching from the pretzel and chip bowls balanced on the bed.

“So,” Sienna broke the silence, “you never
told me about your date.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down a la
Groucho Marx, trying to seem enthused.

Listening with interest I gave her a standard
run down, reducing the mind-reading part to intuition.

Sienna nodded. “Yes! There is something about
him. He’s hot I guess, but I don’t know.” She told me about
Natalie, her crush from Sixth, who was flirting without mercy but
making no moves.

We were giggling when there was a knock at
the front door. We paused to listen and heard Henry shuffle across
the wood entryway to answer. A few seconds later, the stairs
creaked and there was a light tap on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” Sienna answered without looking
up. “Oh, hey Stuart!”

Stuart? God I looked like crap!

“Hey.” He stood in the doorway, increasing my
heart rate. “Can you two use a break?”

His long sleeve mock turtleneck hugged his
torso, mocking me, and just that quick my no boys theory was a
smack down. The soft, sensuous effortless smile and eyes warm with
affection could not be denied.

All I wanted was for things to be okay
between us.

“Hey, Fairchild. What are you doing out in
the rain?” It was impossible not to respond with sheer delight that
we shared the same space, and I vowed to drop the defensive diva
act forever.

With his focus to me, I swooned like the
girlie-girl I had never been, the evil nemesis of Layla, the
Feminist. “I came to see you actually. Can we talk? Maybe… across
the hall? No offense, Sienna.” He winked at his friend.

“None taken. Go.” She shooed us with her
hand, already reabsorbed in her psychology textbook.

We both sat on the edge of the bed about a
foot apart. “I would have dressed had I known…”

“Layla,” he stopped me, “you
look…spectacular,” he whispered, causing the hairs on my arms to
perk up. “I just…want us to be okay.”

That was all I wanted to hear. “We’re fine,
Fairchild. Water under the bridge as they say. And sorry for
the…call.”

My fingers fidgeted nervously. His hand
reached over to cover mine igniting fire to my skin while
administering an instant muscle relaxer. “No worries. And for the
record,” he continued, “my entire family, females included, are
tall. We are not pygmies by any means.”

His delivery made me laugh – hard. I gained
composure, watching him grin at me, and he began again. “Sienna
showed me your school picture, and when I saw you I was – taken
aback.”

Curious boy.

“How so?” I asked.

He looked down, thinking, perhaps searching
for words, and when his eyes returned to me it was clear he knew
what to say. “Because I thought you were the most extraordinarily
beautiful creature I had ever seen.”

Something caved in my chest, and a queasy
sensation formed in the pit of my stomach. The compliment was
overwhelming, and there was nothing to do but be gracious after
swallowing dry air. “Thank you.”

You’re beautiful too, Fairchild.

As if he heard my thoughts, a fiery smile
consumed his face, melting my pounding heart.

We sat in oddly comfortable silence. Speaking
for myself, I was temporarily mute from the repeating phrase
‘extraordinarily beautiful’ running through my head like a
scratched record.

“Layla, I meant what I said about Andre, but
there’s something else.” His direct delivery had my full attention.
“I want a shot. Let’s spend a day together, anywhere you want.”

In that moment, I resigned to the fact that I
had made a huge mistake dating Andre. Two people in my life issued
warnings, and I had heard his forceful, disturbing thoughts come at
me like bullets.

This was not a drill.

And in that moment, I was happy to be
sitting. Stuart Fairchild, the guy any girl would want, asked me on
a date.

Still, I decided to play a little longer.

“Jeez, Andre and I had one date, Fairchild,”
I grinned. “It’s not like we’re engaged. Besides, the more people
tell me no, the more I want to do something. I’m a rebel that way.”
My mouth involuntarily twitched, wanting to smile and let him
in.

His hand still rested on mine sending ripples
of warmth up my arm. He leaned in close enough that I smelled his
fragrant breath and his woody rain-scented skin. “You are not a
rebel, love. You are lonely in ways others don’t understand. I want
to spend time with you. Let me know if you feel the same.” He
raised my hand to his lips, kissing the top and then palm with his
soft mouth.

My heart fluttered hard enough to form
wings.

Who is this guy and why did I feel
transparent and naked around him?

Before another word was uttered, he had
somehow vanished, as if to remind me how fleeting life is, how
fragile his offer.

Sienna finally bounced in, asking what he
wanted as I sat catatonic.

“Me. He wants me…I think.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next day a box arrived addressed to me,
c/o the Brown’s. There was no return address, no note, nothing.
Inside was a silver charm – part lion, part dragon. A symbol of
guardianship, Sienna announced after searching the web.

Guardianship.

The sender would likely know I have a
bracelet – a near empty bracelet with room for charms. Since I wear
it constantly, many people had seen it, I supposed, depending on
their observation level. “Someone’s watching over you,” Sienna said
in a romantic, sentimental tone that made me squirm.

“Yay me.”

Stuart seemed especially happy when he picked
us up. The happiness would have been contagious, had I not been
obsessing about who sent the charm. Of course, Sienna made sure he
knew about the morning delivery, causing him to carefully examine
the creature now dangling near the heart from Dad. “Hhmm.
Interesting.” He casually responded.

I would call Dad later and ask if he sent
it.

His scent reached me just as he spoke – musk.
Andre waited for me inside the building, extending a café au lait
in my direction. “Hey. Miss me?” He winked before continuing.
“You’re all I thought about yesterday. Very distracting.” He
smelled really good, but suddenly my instinct was on high alert,
and pulling away from him seemed like the sane thing to do. “What
are you doing later?” He asked.

I paused then looked him in the eye.
“Andre…thanks for the coffee. I need to go. And thanks again for a
great time Saturday…really.” He easily kept pace with my warp speed
propelling me down the hall. I stopped outside my class, noticing
his drawn up brows creasing his forehead into a frown.

“Are you brushing me off?” He was trying to
mask irritation with teasing, making me wonder why I didn’t pick up
on more signals. They seemed so obvious now.

I faked a smile. “Not at all. Just need to
get to class. Let’s talk later, okay?” Something told me to steer
him away from suspicion and into a comfort zone. To really sell it,
I sprinkled a little flirtation into my smile.

Jeez, he made me nervous now.

I noticed his facial muscles relax, and I
released a discreet sigh of relief. His clenched jaw transitioned
to a wry grin. Contention averted.

“You got it!” He winked.

He finally walked away, and I dropped the
coffee in the rubbish can.