14. Brown Eyed Girl

CHAPTER 14

brOWN EYED GIRL

VAN MORRISON

"Angel, can you open your eyes for me?" The wind quiets as we slow down and I pull off to the side of the ramp. "Come on, just long enough to breathe with me for a bit, okay?"

I'd heard enough from Lexi's mother, so I used one of the oldest tricks in the book for a Jeep owner. I find the gap in traffic and punch the gas, heading for the coming offramp. Earlier, when the wind kept us from talking, I had cursed myself for leaving the top off. Now I'm glad to have the roaring wind tunnel to shut her mother up.

Lexi's blocking out the world around her by shutting her eyes tight against it. I don't blame her; I would, too. I have.

"Angel?" I keep my voice soft while I gently stroke her arm with my knuckles. If she doesn't want to be touched, even a soft brush could be enough to send me off the edge of a cliff. Her. I mean her . I wonder how much more we have in common.

She chokes on a sob she doesn't want me to hear, "I'm okay. Can we…can we just go?"

"Yeah, whatever you need, sweetheart." I pull back out onto the road, my mind racing to find some way to fix this.

I understand why Dani was trying to match the two of us. Lexi understands trauma, and while that should make me believe I'm not alone, and we share things in common, it makes everything worse. My beautiful muse hides her scars on the inside. Her broken pieces of armor glued crudely around her, trying to keep her safe from the demons. I don't want that, not for her. The urge to protect her is even stronger than last night. I wonder if I saw something that reminded me of myself, that tried to reveal her broken pieces. Misery loves company, but I thought she was my rainbow, not a matching cloud.

"Thanks for the noise," she mumbles.

I look over, surprised that she's even talking yet. "It sounded like you needed a bit of an out on that call. I hope I didn't overstep. I don't want to cause you trouble."

She's chewing on her nails and staring timidly out the window. She's probably trying to figure out if I've kidnapped her, given that she's already warned me not to be a mass murderer. "Where are we?"

"I opted for the scenic route. I figured we could use a break from the 405." I flash her a wink.

The acidic tone of her mother's voice put me on edge, so I can only imagine what it's doing to her. I wanted to grab the phone and toss dear old mom out the window into oncoming traffic. It all hit a bit too close to home for me. Too much familiarity. Not in the exact words, but in their meaning—the painful lash they inflict.

That old saying they tried to teach kids about sticks and stones? It's utter bullshit. Words have fangs. They sink into the skin and burrow deep in the mind. They gnash and claw at happiness and confidence. Like a spell or mind control, these words give the speaker a power only they can control. The closer to your heart that person is, the more pain their words inflict.

"No, that was…appreciated. Thank you." She tries to smile, but it doesn't last long. I don't want her to be locked in this shell, but I don't want her to have to pretend either. "Did, uhm, you hear any of that?"

"Nah. I was way too busy watching traffic and thinking of how next to embarrass myself in front of the pretty girl next to me." She doesn't need to know I heard every damn word. I wish I could tell her I understand, but somehow, that feels hollow—like I'm trying to make it a competition. ‘Whose mom is the worst' isn't a game I'd care to play with her.

"Okay."

Her entire demeanor has changed, so I'm treading lightly for now, trying to find a crack in the shell she's hiding inside. The speed at which she shut down isn't foreign to me. We're too much alike, and that scares me. I want to hold her, to whisper how badly I want to help her. I'll open my own wounds and pour out my soul if I thought it would help heal hers.

As we drive, I remember something from last night. It's small, but it might help. I reach behind her and pull my jacket out, laying it over her. She instantly snuggles into it, and I can see some of the tension loosen its hold on her. I'm not taking her to the conference like this. I need to give her somewhere safe, somewhere she can hit the reset button and tuck away the insecurities her mother brings up again until Lexi can deal with them on her terms.

"Hey, uhm, there's this excellent breakfast place up this way. What do you say we start the day over with better coffee and the closest thing to home-cooked food you can get from a restaurant? It's better than convention center food."

"Can I leave my phone in your car?"

"Do whatever you need to, Angel." I glance over at her while we wait for a light. She doesn't flinch when I reach over and wipe the tear from her cheek. "I thought you might appreciate a little comfort food and time to shake that call off. We can probably get a table away from anyone else."

"Okay. Yeah."

When I park down a crowded side street near a golf course ten minutes later, Lexi is confused. For whatever reason, she's trusting me and I'd like to keep it that way. Inside the house-turned-restaurant, memorabilia and framed pictures of different water skiing events from years ago decorate the walls. The place has a comforting atmosphere of someone's lakeside home with pictures of real people on the walls instead of those ugly corporate paintings of fruit.

She slips her arm through the jacket sleeve and into my hand as a man walks toward us with a big smile. I squeeze her hand twice. Once to tell her I've got her. A second time to tell her I understand. She tucks her head against my shoulder, as if she gets what I'm trying to tell her without words.

"Hey, hey! Long time no see, pal! And a good morning to you too, young lady." The man's bright white smile is flashy but kind. He owns the place and takes pride in running it. It's why it wins all sorts of local awards. "End of the patio?"

"Yeah, please." He walks us outside, and after Lexi takes the seat facing the road, I slide into the patio-length booth across from her.

"If you order the cappuccino or anything with foam on top, that guy comes out and draws a little duck in the drink. It's kind of his schtick."

"Guess you come here a lot?"

"Enough. My dad and I came to this place as much as possible when we lived closer. He and the owner would talk each other's ears off about anything and everything under the sun." Realizing I should veer the conversation for my own good, I change gears. "Do you like muffins?"

"Uhm, I dunno. I mean, coffee's fine."

"I'm not convinced. What if I order one, and if you want, you can try it? I promise only healthy stuff in your half. All the calories or glutens or whatever people say is bad are in my half. Okay?" I want to see her eat something, but I've got a feeling her mother is why she's not.

She nods reluctantly, right as the waitress steps outside and rounds the corner. "Hey, hey, stranger! I haven't seen you and your pops down this way in forever!"

"Yeah, it's been a while." I order one of their giant muffins and coffee for both of us, flashing Lexi a smirk and a wink as I do. I wait for the waitress to leave before I ask, "Would it be better if we talked about work?"

"No, I'd probably get annoyed with myself that we're here instead of at the convention." She looks at her watch and then at the menu. She simply wants the day to end. She needs to be in her safe space, hidden away from the pain. Mine was in the closet as a kid; in bed as an adult. "Do you bring people here often?"

"No. Only you."

"Only me?" She bites her lip and I can tell she's trying to come out. Struggling to resurface. "And all the girls you try to flatter after making out with them in a bathroom and bailing?"

"Ouch." I lean forward and gaze into her eyes; it's like staring into a strange mirror, like seeing all my hurt in someone else's eyes. I want to take it all from her, but I know that's now how it works. "I've never brought anyone here. Not dates, not friends, not even clients. Because this is mine, this is a secret place I could go to when I needed reassurance that I'm in a safe place. Well, it's not very secret; the place is packed on weekends."

This was a private getaway for my dad and I. We'd sit for hours after my therapy sessions. I would sketch and work through my issues while he talked to people and made sure I ate. When I tilt my head and peek through the window, I spot Dad's sketch on the wall. A waterskiing duck. It's cartoonish and silly, not his typical style, but I can see him in each pencil stroke. He loved sharing art with people, making them something unique. He also loved bringing me here. Something about the place always helped me.

"Oh!" she gasps. I get the sense that she finally sees something familiar in me. "I, uhm, I thought that…never mind."

"Anyhow, I figured you could use somewhere to escape for a bit before we dive into too many people and not enough oxygen. Give your edible a little extra time to kick in." I lean back. "Did you even take one?"

"You know you didn't need to do this, right? It's not your problem, and I'm sorry if I'm being difficult."

"You don't need to be sorry; it's not your fault." I'm throwing darts in the dark to find a way to help her. I've known her for less than a day. That's not enough time to learn how to pull her out of this headspace, but I keep trying. "Is she who called you last night?"

"How could you tell?" There's a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"It was something in your eyes. You've got it now; it says you'd rather hide under the covers than be wherever you are." I bite my lip, hoping I'm not going too far with this. "Besides, your co-worker hitting on a guy you've known for a few hours wasn't enough to set someone like you off. I'm sure I didn't help, and I was hoping it wasn't just because I'm a dick. It seemed like there was something more wrong."

I can't stop looking at her. I'm trying, but I simply can't. My hand is twitching again; I would give anything for a pencil and a piece of paper. Fuck, give me some chalk and a bit of clear sidewalk—I don't care. I need to draw her. The sensation should have faded by now, but it's growing stronger.

"Yeah, well, I did a lot of things wrong last night. Going in the first place, everything I did with you, smacking Kennedy in the face. None of that was very professional or normal for me."

"You smacked her? Well, Kennedy deserved it after how she treated you. As for what we did, why was that wrong?" I lean forward and stare into those two deep amber pools. "I think we should finish what we started. Possibly a few times."

She looks surprised and lets out a fake laugh. "No, you don't. It's okay." A small strand of hair has fallen out of her ponytail. I wait, giving her long enough to fix it herself. When she doesn't, I reach over and gently tuck it behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the shell of her ear as our eyes meet.

Fuck. Her hair is so soft, and I want to run my fingers through it while I kiss her. I have a hunch she tastes like candy.

"Here you go, kids, one fresh giant muffin!" I pull my hand away from her and sit back. Lexi also pulls back, bringing her knee up to her chest, fixating on something off in the distance.

I nod and smile at the waitress. As she walks away, my head rocks back until I stare at the ceiling. The longer she stays quiet, the longer I overthink everything. Right now, I'm focused on how she's wishing last night hadn't happened while I desperately hope it happens again. Keeping it all out of my head has been…difficult—her smell, her warmth, how in control she was. I rub my eyes, trying to clear my mind.

"The muffin is really good."

I watch her rip off a chunk from the side and take the tiniest, mousiest bite. She licks the sticky caramel off her lips, watching me the whole time, so I know she sees how hard I swallow. Is she flirting? Coming on to me?After all that? How can I complete a three-week project with her if I can't stop daydreaming about how she tastes and what her lips feel like?

We're interrupted again when the owner drops off our drinks, pulls out a toothpick, and draws a duck's head in the foam. Just like I'd described—he's no Picasso, but the thought behind it counts.

"Tell your pops I said hi, and you kids don't be strangers, okay?" As he leaves, my phone buzzes.

Unknown Number

Why aren't you answering me, Jamie?

Have you got a pretty new toy for me to play with?

I hope it's not the blonde. She was way too easy, wasn't she?

"Okay, you were right. It's cute," Lexi comments, pulling me back to the here and now before I turn my phone over. She's looking down into her cup of coffee. "I mean, I almost don't want to drink it, but it's probably twice as offensive if I don't."

I nod, barely hearing her as I frown into my own cup and watch the figure slowly melt away as I stir it with the spoon. Why did I come here? I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, keeping myself from spiraling into the memories. I want to be there for her—but fuck—this hurts.

"North Carolina."

"What?"

"You asked where I was from and I never answered you. I'm from North Carolina."

"Oh," I answer flatly, still watching the swirling liquid and rising steam but unable to focus on them. She's nervous and I know what's coming next, but I won't stop her. I understand why I came here now. To be somewhere familiar and close to my happier memories. It's okay; she shouldn't be interested in a mess like me.

"Look, I don't know how to say this, but uhm…I'm not the girl for you. I think you're really…great…but we should just work together. Keep it professional."

"Yeah, I know." I nod, dropping my eyes to catch the last remnants of the melting duck figure. "I knew that at the coffee shop when I first saw you. I hoped Dani finally got one right, but it's fine. You're so out of my league, not even in the same sport."

"No, I'm not," she says defensively, before laughing. "I'm nothing like that. I'm a normal, boring girl with issues and a weird family. You're the hot, mysterious photographer, slash artist, slash handyman. I'm sure you'll be fine even if you are shy."

I should let it go. Normally, I would. I'd take this as a sign that this isn't going to happen, and I'd move on. I glance back through the window and see that picture my dad did, and it's like he's here behind me, pushing me forward. Maybe there is an afterlife, and he heard me last night at his door. Maybe that's why I picked this restaurant, of all places, to take Lexi. He really would have liked her.

"Alexis, anyone who thinks you're not the most intelligent, fun, stunning, incredibly talented, most amazing person they've ever met is lying." I'm blushing; I can feel it. "I know that sounds stupid and desperate because I've known you for barely a day, but I don't care."

"It doesn't sound stupid, I'm just… I'm not those things."

"You are. Those things and so much more, and I wish you could see how incredible you are—how I see you."

"James."

I drop my head and close my eyes. I think I've run out of ideas and steam. "Thanks for not throwing the coffee in my face or calling me creepy."

"Why would I waste perfectly good coffee messing up a perfectly good face?" Her half smile makes the butterflies start a Conga line in my stomach. "So, you're not upset? About not wanting to, you know, go out or whatever?"

I shake my head, knowing that if I talk, my voice will betray me.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I just, there's a lot of chaos in my life right now."

"I get it. I've got a lot of baggage and no trunk to store it in." This is the part where I'd make a joke and walk away. Letting go early is less painful than dragging out something that won't go anywhere. But I can't do it this time. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Why did you say you're not the girl for me instead of saying you're not interested in me?" My hand is so close to hers I can feel the sparks that snap between us, and I want to know why she can't or won't. For once, I feel like this is one to fight for, one to push at least a little to see if I can break through those walls. "It's like you're afraid you'll disappoint me, or yourself."

"I…I don't know, really. I mean, I guess I just don't think it would be a great idea since we work together and everything. I don't really date." She picks at the edge of the table, a nervous habit. "I get what you mean about the baggage. Not many guys stick around for long when they finally see mine."

I can't help but think that her mess and my mess would make the most beautiful art. I think back to the studio for the first time in months, and I can't fight the urge to bring her there. To sketch her, then strip her naked and take my time worshiping every inch of her. I want her covered in paint and moaning my name while her fingers play in my hair. I want to tear apart every piece of her armor and find the soft angel hiding inside.

"Don't shut the door."

"What?"

"Leave the door open. When we're done working together, no strings attached, no expectations, and only when and if you want to, I'll take you out. Then we can try to convince each other that we'd be terrible together." My finger slides along hers, and she doesn't pull away. "I'm not afraid of your baggage, Lexi. If you can get past that, please let me carry it for you, even if just for a little while."

"How about we order some food, get high, get through today, and leave it at maybe?" She takes out the baggie of edibles again and tosses them on the table with a smirk.

"Deal."