13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Emil

“Thank you, Mrs. Park. That was the last one. We’re all set for today.”

The elderly woman across from me nods, sitting back in her chair. She’s wearing a soft ivory cardigan, and despite being in a nursing home, she appears to be both spry and intelligent.

“I’ll be back in another week to—”

“Specs?”

My words cut off, and I look up in surprise at Christian, who’s standing beside our table in the recreation room.

“Christian? What, uh…what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, leaning down to give Mrs. Park a hug. “Hey, Grandma.”

Oh. Oh .

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Park says in return, patting Christian’s—her grandson’s —cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you today. You know Mr. Reed?”

“We’re neighbors,” Christian says, eyes meeting mine. “He lives across the alleyway.”

“What a coincidence,” Mrs. Park says.

A coincidence.

Christian’s lips twitch into a smile. “Mm.”

“We were just finishing up,” I tell Christian, who looks at the papers in front of me. I slip them back into the folder.

“Finishing up with…” Christian says slowly.

“I’m doing Mr. Reed’s experiment,” Mrs. Park replies.

“It’s not my research,” I hasten to remind her, as well as make sure Christian understands. “But, uh, yeah. Your grandmother is one of the participants in our study.”

Christian’s brow furrows, but Mrs. Park starts to stand, so he offers an arm. “Here.”

She accepts the support, even though she seems steady on her feet. “Thank you, sweetheart. Why don’t you walk me back to my room, and then you can come catch up with your friend here.”

I give Christian a nod. “I’ll wait. Have a nice day, Mrs. Park.”

“You, too, dear,” she says. “I’ll see you next week.”

Christian heads out of the room with his grandmother, and in the relative quiet that follows, I realize exactly how hard my heart is beating. I’m just putting away the last of my things when Christian returns. He plops into his grandmother’s vacated seat, arms crossed on the table in front of him and an open, if not befuddled, look on his face.

“Explain,” he says simply.

I never told Christian the specifics of the research study I’m involved in, but I see no problem doing so now. “We’re studying the effects of cognitive training in relation to dementia.”

Christian sits straighter in his seat, as if he’s been zapped. “My grandma is showing signs of dementia?”

I pull in a quick breath. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I rush to say. “Shit, Christian, I’m sorry. No, she’s not. She’s in a participant group of individuals without dementia.”

He lets out a gust of air, forehead plopping onto his arms. “Jesus, Specs.”

I curse again—quietly, mind you, considering where we are. Telling my nerves to fuck off, I reach forward and thread my fingers through Christian’s hair.

“Sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He hums, rolling his head enough to look at me. His hair is falling over his forehead, and I brush the long strands to the side. It takes me a minute to realize I’ve repeated the motion several times.

“Sorry,” I repeat, pulling my hand away.

Christian sits upright. “What’d I tell you about that, Specs?”

You have my permission.

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat, forcing myself not to say sorry in response.

“Mr. Reed?” he asks, a wry twist to his lips.

I huff a laugh. “Yeah. Guess we never really exchanged last names, huh? Yours, though… Jerome said it’s Ducat.”

He gives a small nod. “My mother’s surname.”

“Right. That makes sense. Um… Your grandmother is really nice. Smart.”

“She is,” Christian says, a soft expression on his face. “She’s the most important person in my life.”

Wow . “Um…”

“I find it strange,” he says.

“What’s that?”

Christian leans forward. His eyes, so dark they look nearly black, blink at me once. The liner at the edges makes him look sharp and impossibly beautiful.

Or maybe that’s just Christian.

“I find it strange,” he repeats slowly, “that if you hadn’t moved in next door, if you hadn’t left your curtains open, if I hadn’t accepted a job at Elite 8 Studios… We still would have met. We would have met right here, right now. Don’t you find that strange?”

My heart thumps wildly.

Christian simply hums. “You have class soon.”

“I, um… Yeah, I do.”

“Which one?”

“Interpersonal Skills and Group Therapy,” I answer.

“But you don’t want to be a therapist,” he says, more statement than question.

“Still need to learn the skills.”

He nods, looking lost in thought for a moment. “Can I take you out tonight?”

“Out?” I say in surprise. “Where?”

Christian huffs a small laugh, mirth in his eyes. “Someplace quiet. Trust me?”

I do.

I nod, and Christian offers me a smile. “Six o’clock, Specs. Be ready.”

With that, Christian stands, presumably to go spend time with his grandmother. And me? I watch him until he’s out of sight, my heart continuing to race.

I try to tell myself it has nothing whatsoever to do with the man upsetting my quiet and comfortable routine.

I’m not sure I buy it.

The knock at my door is expected, but I jump nonetheless. I close the top of Arthur’s terrarium before pushing to my feet.

“Here we go, Arthur.”

My hermit crab doesn’t respond.

The distance to my door seems to last forever. My feet shuffle forward, and no amount of telling myself this is just Christian and there’s nothing to worry about settles my nerves. I don’t understand why he wants to spend so much time with me. All I do is study and talk about psychology, and, sure, I have sex in front of cameras. But that’s the most exciting thing in my life. Everything else is just…

“Specs,” Christian says. “I can hear you thinking. Open the door.”

Puffing out a breath, I do. Christian appears in front of me wearing a smile and a pair of loose black pants that cinch at his ankles. His shirt is white, understated, but it complements his frame as if it were made for him. It probably was . His hair is down today, his eyes look like onyx pools, and I’m fairly sure I’ve never seen anything lovelier.

“Hi,” I manage.

His smile twists, and he holds out a hand. “Ready to go?”

Pulse thrumming, I accept his palm, closing the door behind me. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t like surprises, do you?” Christian says, leading me down the hall. He lets go of my hand to open the stairwell door, waving me forward.

“What gave me away?”

Christian snorts. “You’re a very interesting blend of predictable and unexpected, Specs.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

“I think you’ll like this,” he says as we step out onto the sidewalk. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

I nod, and Christian offers his hand again. I take it.

Christian tells me a little bit about the rest of his day while we set off along the busy street, including the fact that he set up an Instagram account for his Vixen alter ego. I don’t have one for Felix, but several of the guys at the studio keep up a social media presence.

When I ask to see it, Christian pulls out his phone with ease. My feet stutter to a stop when he flips the screen my way. The picture—his only so far—is of him standing in front of a mirror in the locker room wearing nothing but a skirt. Well, not nothing. There’s also a silver chain around his middle, a drop pearl hanging in his belly button. I just about swallow my tongue, my mind so helpfully supplying the mental image of other pearly white things that could be pooling in that divot.

“Shit,” I murmur.

“Do you like it?” Christian asks, a hint of cheekiness in his tone.

“Very nice…smile.”

He laughs as I duck my head, both of us well aware I wasn’t fixated on his smile. We resume walking, and, when we reach a flora-covered gate I’ve never noticed before, Christian comes to a stop.

“We’re here,” he says.

There’s a plaque on the front of the gate that reads, “ All welcome. May you find peace. ”

“What is this?” I ask.

Christian opens the latch. “A meditation garden.”

My brows pop up, and he huffs a small laugh.

“I can feel your skepticism from here, Specs.”

“No, it’s just…”

Christian gives my hand a squeeze. “This place is special. You’ll see.”

Unable not to, I follow Christian as he steps down a winding, narrow path. Trees flank both sides of us, making it feel as if we’re traveling through a natural tunnel. When we reach a clearing, I come to an abrupt stop. Christian chuckles, stepping to the side so I can see better.

It is a garden, but… At its center is a perfectly circular, manicured lawn with spiraling stone pavers. Along the sides are impeccably tended-to bushes and flowers. A butterfly flits above some bright red petals. At the far side of the lawn is a bench stationed in front of a small pond. A couple ducks are floating in the water, and just past is a brick building, the entire side of it painted with a mural of wildflowers below a sunrise.

I had no clue this was here.

Christian gives my hand a tug, a smile on his face. “Come on, Specs.”

I follow Christian along the smooth pavers, both of us stepping stone to stone. The path leads around the lawn to the center and then back out again in the opposite direction until it reaches the pond. It would have been quicker to simply walk across the grass, but… I don’t think that’s the point.

Christian lowers himself onto the bench, and I sit beside him. We’re both quiet for a minute, watching the ducks swim around in front of the brightly painted flowers across the water. The setting sun in the mural makes it feel as if we’re suspended in time, even though everything is moving and alive around us.

When I look over at Christian, I find him already watching me. “Well?” he asks.

“It’s nice,” I say. Even though it’s so much more than that. “How’d you find this place?”

“My grandma,” he answers, lips lifting into an almost melancholic smile. “I used to come here with her a lot.” He huffs a laugh when the ducks start chasing one another. “Earlier this year, in the springtime, there were ducklings here. I wonder if these are them, all grown up.”

“Could be,” I say softly, following his gaze. “Animals often return to the places they know are safe. It’s ingrained in us. Instinctual. Humans, ducks, we seek safety without conscious thought. We’re all just trying to survive in this world the best way we know how.”

Christian hums. “What’d you call that? The tenacity of life?”

My head whips his way, breath hitching. “Um, yeah. I did.”

Christian nods, a soft smile on his face as he looks out over the pond. He remembered that?

My heart pounds heavily as I try to focus on the nature spread out in front of us, but a question circles around my mind again and again. It’s no surprise to me when it finally finds its way out.

“Why’d you bring me here, Christian?”

He lets loose a breath before shifting his gaze my way. “I don’t really know, Specs. That might seem like a cop-out, but it’s the truth. I…like you. And I like this place. It’s quiet. It brings me comfort. I guess I just wanted to share it with you.”

I nod, unable to speak. One of the ducks splashes, honking once, the sound almost joyous, despite its crass nature. Christian chuckles beside me.

“Thank you,” I finally respond.

“Yeah, Specs. Thanks for being here.”

Sadness hits when I realize it’s entirely possible Christian’s grandmother can’t come with him anymore. I wonder, briefly, about the rest of his family. Whether or not he has any. It doesn’t feel like the right time to ask.

After a long while, Christian’s gaze lands on the side of my head again. “Ready to go?”

I swallow and nod. “Yeah.”

Christian stands, and I follow suit. We start walking the stones again.

“Want to grab some food on the way back?” Christian asks.

“I, uh… Sure?”

“My treat,” he adds, shooting me a smile. “It’s customary, after all, to take a guy out to dinner before you fuck.”

My foot misses a paver, and I catch myself on the next, heart thrashing about inside my chest. It takes me a good, long moment to realize he’s talking about our scenes. Our scenes . Not… us .

The wink Christian sends me over his shoulder sure doesn’t help settle my pulse, though.

Is it possible to develop an arrhythmia because of a painfully attractive, thoughtfully sweet neighbor?

“Um, we’ve already fucked,” I point out, if for no other reason than to have something to say. “Also, I don’t think you’re supposed to say ‘fuck’ in a meditation garden.”

Christian laughs, a sound that has a smile sneaking onto my face. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

When we reach the end of the spiraling path, Christian stops. “Well, Specs? What’s the verdict? Did you find your inner peace?”

I’m not sure what I found inside this garden, but I can’t deny I feel lighter than I did before.

“Inconclusive,” I tell him. “I think I’ll need to gather more evidence.”

Aaand shit , am I flirting? Was that flirting?

Christian’s eyes light in a way I’m coming to recognize as familiar. Like he’s got a secret I should know but can’t quite figure out. “Mm. I think that can be arranged. Now how do sandwiches sound?”

“Perfect,” I tell him truthfully.

With a grin, Christian heads back down the narrow path out of the garden, me at his heel. It’s not until much later, when I’m lying in bed with a book out in front of me, Christian long since having gone back to his own apartment, that a thought flashes to life inside my head, so blindingly bright I nearly pull a neck muscle from the whiplash.

Was…was that a date ?