Chapter 7

SEVEN

CARRIE

I wake up still in Cal's bed falling asleep in my clothes, my face stiff from the tears that dried. Lifting myself up, my palms flat on the bed, I sit, slouched over exhausted from my night of crying. I have to get a hold of myself. I'll be here for a few months waiting for school to start again but I'm not sure I want to go now. I flop back down onto the bed, my arms spreading wide, nowhere to go or anything to do. Rolling onto my side I sit up and stand, throwing the blanket off.

Twenty minutes later, I'm showered and changed, no make up, ready to start my day. What am I going to do? I stand at the wide-open patio doors staring out to the blue infinity pool, a breeze wafts over my face and whirling hair. Swimming, I'd have to change, I huff out breaths and swipe hair out of my mouth and eyes. I could go shopping, I didn't bring enough clothes for the time I'll be here.

I go into the kitchen and hunt through the fridge and cabinets for something to eat. I don't want to make anything big. I find a couple protein shakes, no cereal. Which I was hoping for. I grab one and walk to the spot where I put the key to his car.

A half hour later, my arm hanging out his Jaguar-F type sports car, I drive through downtown Bay City. It's a ritzy, bougee area full of high priced restaurants, clothes stores and art galleries. I don't think I'll find what I want here. I'm not into designer wear, I like clothes that will last.

I zip the car into the public parking so I can stroll up and down Main Street window shopping. It's a hot day and I keep to what shadows I can, the beating sun makes prickles of sweat bead on the top of my head and every other part of my body in five minutes. I'm dressed in tank top and shorts; it's not helping with the heat rising with every minute.

We're too far away from the ocean to get their foggy chill, we get the desert heat instead. I swipe my hand over my slick forehead, glad I decided not to wear make up and smear it on my face. "I've got to get inside." I mutter to myself.

I lurch for the nearest door not caring what kind of store it is. Fresh roasted coffee fills the air and settles on my tongue fights with the scent of fresh cooked dough. The fresh roasted coffee strong enough I can taste it, next is the scent of pastries drifting through the air.

Swiping at my forehead with the back of my hand I stand in line for a cold drink. It looks like everyone else in line has my predicament with this heat. I can't decide between the pink caffeinated drink which I have no idea what the name is or an iced coffee. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, my eyes leap from one drink to the other.

I take a step forward and my ankle turns, my body falls backward and then sideways, my heart flails along with my arms as if flapping them will keep me upright. I surge my body in the opposite direction trying to get my other foot underneath, that ankle turns on my damn platform sandals.

My face heads for the tile floor and I'm waiting to become intimately acquainted with it. My hands thrust in front of me, black smears of dirt, closer and closer and I squeeze my eyes shut waiting some part of my body to be slammed to the floor.

My forward crash is halted as arms grab me around the waist inches from the floor, my heart wipeouts against my ribcage at the same time.

"Hey, it's Carrie right? Carrie Bay? From high school?"

I swivel my head on my shoulders and feel like the demonized girl from the Exorcist. He lifts and makes sure I can stand on my own feet.

Who is that? His face is familiar; older, sharper jaw. So familiar. He's. He's Aaron McConnell, my boyfriend when I was sixteen. We broke up when I went to university a year early.

"Aaron. How are you?" My face slackens for an instant as I get my bearings and blooms into a huge smile. Once or twice I wondered what he was doing. Was he married? Had children? I almost gave him my virginity, something held me back.

His arms open wide, engulfing me in his arms and the comfort was a warm blanket. Bad analogy right now. His hug is welcome, comfortable, uneasy. I'm not sure what to think.

"Carrie, it's so good to see you again. How are you?"

"Next."

"Sorry, Aaron." I turn back to the barista, "I'll have the cold pink drink. A large." I give my order quickly not paying attention to what I ordered, that being centered on him.

"That'll be eight fifty." I give her a quick, little smile, digging into my bag.

"Here, let me." I level a shocked gaze at him and he's already handing her a ten. "Keep the change."

"No, no Aaron. I don't want you to pay for me. I can." I mean we just met again. I scramble through my bag for bills, pushing through the many odds and ends I need to get by, I had planned on using my card, cash is something I usually don't use.

"I'll have a large black iced coffee and I'll pay both." He tells the barista, pulling his wallet out. He jerks his head to the empty tables, "go pick one."

I volley my head from one table to another, not sure what I should do. I don't want him to take charge, pay and tell me what to do, I don't want to seem like a bitch either since he saved me from possibly being hurt. He moves his hand in a go motion and waits for the cold coffees. I move to a table for two in the back and wait for him, tugging napkins out of the holder and laying a couple in front of his seat and me. Grabbing another and start folding it and folding and folding until it's in a tiny square. I twirl it between my fingers.

"Here." Tossing it in the air at his voice next to me, the scrap of the cardboard cup in front of me makes me turn my head and he pulls the chair out, sitting across from me, his eyes on mine.

I unfold the napkin staring down at it and start tearing it into tiny pieces. A large male hand comes into my view and lays over my hands. My eyes flip up to his and his smile makes my heart skid to a slow down for a second but it's not the smile I dream about.

"So, what have you been doing since high school?"

He lifts the cup to his lips, takes a sip and lowers it to the table. "Probably pretty much the same as you. Went to UCLA, graduated, got a job. How about you?"

I'm sure that was pretty simplified, "I'm still in graduate school at Stanford. What do you do?"

"I'm a nurse anesthetist." He gazes expectantly as if waiting for me to make fun of him being a nurse. Why would I do that?

"I think that's great. I bet that's exciting and scary. All that responsibility."

He almost looks relieved at my understanding, his face releasing, becoming brighter from his tight expression having expected derision. He rests his other arm on the table becoming more comfortable talking with me. Why can't I be attracted to a normal man instead of an ahole like my stepdad?