Crazy About Love: An All About Love Novel (19 page)

P
RESENT DAY

The front seat of a limo isn’t as roomy as the back, obviously, but I manage to squish myself between the dash and the passenger seat, head covered by a jacket that smells like electrically charged strawberries. On closer inspection, I realize it’s Jackson’s e-cigarettes.

He told me to stay down and covered until Rian puts up the partition. The longer I stay cramped in the footwell, the better I feel, because that means there’s no private backseat limo stuff happening.

A couple of doors slam shut, jolting the limo and making me bang my head on the bottom of the glove compartment.

“Hey, Jackson,” Rian says after a few minutes. “Take us to the roof court.” Hmm, her voice is so much more polite when it’s not directed toward me, yet I still have the urge to lunge from my crouch and throw down with her
National Geographic
style.

The limo jolts as Jackson puts it in gear, and I hear the partition rolling up with a
ziiiiipah
. I chance a peek from under the smelly jacket.

“All clear,” he says. “Buckle up. I don’t need a lawsuit on top of everything else.”

I climb up into the passenger seat, knees cracking as I stretch out my legs, my dress stuck in my butt crack. I adjust as discreetly as I can, thankful Jackson has the decency to keep his eyes on the road.

“So where’s this place we’re going?”

He runs a hand over the wheel and stops at the noon position. “Abandoned building.”

My seatbelt clicks into place, and I flip my dress over my exposed thighs. “An abandoned building? Doesn’t scream romance, exactly.”

He shakes his head, his scruffy jawline clenching as he makes a turn. “Rian’s painted a mural up on the roof. It’s…personal. She’s not taking him there just to show him decrepit scenery.”

I quickly glance over my shoulder at the soundproof partition that’s the only thing separating me from Alec right now. A restaurant patio and a sketchy club weren’t his scene, and I don’t think I truly felt the concentrated surge of urgency until this moment. An abandoned building, a train station, a messy kitchen…doesn’t matter what the backdrop is, because if you’re being completely real with him, he will reward you for it.

“How do we get up there?” I ask, eyes back on Jackson.

“On the roof?” He gives me a side smile. “Well, she’ll take him up in the elevator. The fire escape is a little unreliable.”

“No stairs inside?”

“The door locks from the outside at the top. So we could climb the five stories and have a good rest at the top without having a clue as to what they’re doing on the other side.”

I huff. “Well, co-conspirator, I’m open to suggestions, since you seem to be shooting down everything I say.”

“I’m not going to condone anything counterproductive.”

“Ooh, smart guy uses big words.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully to the side. “Why can’t Theresa get the man she wants? It’s a mystery.”

I run an anxious hand through my mess of hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. He has no idea how many counterproductive things I’m
not
doing for the sake of making this evening a success, arguing with him being one of them.

“Maybe we should fake a breakdown,” I say, watching the light in front of us turn from yellow to red. Jackson stops so smoothly that it feels as if we were never moving in the first place.

He gives me one, hard shake of his head. “Not giving them that opportunity.” His eyes flick back to the partition before he slams them shut and curses. “It’s damn near killing me, thinking about what’s going on back there right now.”

An image of Rian’s purple head in Alec’s lap invades my scheming train of thought, and I slam my own eyes shut, shaking my head to get it out.

“Thanks for that,” I say to Jackson, my pained tone surprising me.

When I open my eyes I get the first taste of empathy in his gaze before he lets his eyes drift back toward the windshield.

“We’ve got one mile.”

“Okay.” I nod. We can think of something. Jackson said this date can happen as long as it doesn’t escalate. He’s not looking to pick a fight with Rian tonight by so blatantly interfering, so if we keep it quiet, make sure we get them to midnight with minimum chemistry, then we can make our moves. I don’t know about him, but I’m not waiting more than one second after midnight to tell Alec how I feel.

I look at the clock on the dash, stomach dripping with disappointment when I see that there are still several hours to be had of this horrid Valentine’s Day.

“All right,” he says, slowing down to the curb. “Get under my jacket.”

“What’s the plan besides me hiding?” I ask, unbuckling and crouching back into my wedgie-inducing hiding spot.

He tosses his jacket at my head. “Gotta keep eyes on them. So think of something under there.”

God, he’s fired. At least Liz had ideas. When I hear the limo’s doors and Alec’s voice, I press my face into my knees, the jacket slipping slightly. Get to the roof—that’s my plan. Stairs and elevator are out, so I’ll take the fire escape and watch my step. Alec is worth braving a little wobbly steel.

The driver’s door opens and the jacket is whipped from my head. “You weren’t completely covered,” he says with a bite of annoyance, “but I don’t think they saw.”

I wiggle my way across the seat and plunk my boots down on the cement sidewalk. “Which building?”

He nods at the one with the broken chain-link fence, a faded
NO TRESPASSING
sign dangling from it. I squint into the darkness, studying the stairs I need to take to the top. If I hurry, maybe I’ll beat them up there.

“You stay with the limo. I’ll tale the eagle eye.” I check the tightness of my boots. “If they start kissing, I’ll create a diversion.”

“Do you like your boyfriend’s face the way it is?” he asks. “Because if you do, you’ll create that diversion
before
they kiss.”

“Noted.” Should I let him know that every time I see the object of his affection I want to punch her boobs in? No, I’ll let that be a pleasant surprise for all of us.

I take a deep breath and hold it as I squeeze through the opening in the chain-link fence. What is it with this girl taking Alec to very smelly places? After one breath through my nose I choose to forgo that way of getting air and let my mouth drop open. The shadows dance on the walls of the buildings I’m sandwiched between, and I quickly look back toward Jackson. He’s watching me with intense eyes and puffing on his e-cigarette. He looks fast. I can hold off attackers long enough for him to get to me and help. As for ghosts and demons, well, he’s probably their leader.

The side door Alec and Rian must’ve taken is cracked open, and I take a peek around it before sprinting past it and up the first steps of the fire escape. So far it’s fine: no creaking or groaning, and very little swinging. I look up and see a couple of missing steps above me, but I can easily jump them.

The next flight is okay, and the one after that. But once I hit the fourth set of stairs and the entire structure begins to sway, my bravado vanishes and my stomach plummets. I let out an involuntary yelp and squeeze against the railing, my head hitting brick. I wait an excruciatingly long minute until the metal framework stops its wobbly dance, then tentatively crawl up the remaining stairs. I’m grateful when I reach the ladder that is nailed securely into the wall and doesn’t creak or move as I step up rung after rung and swing over the edge of the rooftop.

I stop dead, not chancing a breath or a movement or a single sound. Damn it, I didn’t beat them up here, and I’m completely exposed, standing right in front of them. But as luck would have it—the first bit of luck I’ve had tonight—they aren’t looking up. They’re crouched down together, Alec holding his phone with the flashlight on. They’re talking in low voices and touching the ground, and I take a quick glance under my feet and realize the entire rooftop is covered in graffiti.

Still holding my breath, wishing my heart wasn’t pounding so hard, I sidestep my way into the shadows. Praise Jesus I didn’t go with the sea monster’s prom dress for my attire tonight. The purple is dark enough to blend into the paint surrounding me, and I tuck myself into a corner by a basketball hoop and a cart of balls. I suppose if I wanted to play a game I’d want to do it in a cool place like this, but I don’t feel like thinking in complimentary terms when it comes to Rian and her uncooperative attitude. So I shake my head free of thoughts about how incredible her talents are and tell myself over and over how not jealous I am of them.

I get comfortable watching them—as comfortable as one can be when you’re forcing down the urge to glove-slap a bitch—and start scoping out the area for a better spot to hide, somewhere I can hear them from. Their voices are low, and damn their close proximity to each other. There’s a shadowy cover maybe twenty, twenty-five feet from where they’re standing, and I consider army-crawling my way over, risking being out in the open for a few seconds. But then Alec shifts, tossing his head back in laughter, and I stop thinking about the mission I’m on to prevent them from kissing and only about why the hell he’s laughing.

His hand snakes around Rian’s waist and he swings her in toward him, and my entire being crumples inward and bursts into flame. I’m burning in hell, struggling for air and for clarity, but only seeing red. Rian’s boobs are in serious danger of getting punched inward.

There have been many times when Alec’s done those moves with me and I thought for sure that he was going to kiss me; being the dumbass that I am, I’d joke and run away. Rian is not doing that. She’s all for his kisses because she’s
not
a dumbass and she’s fighting for her night, and it’s petty and juvenile and I don’t give a shit because
I
want this night. And all I can think about is the mission to prevent them from kissing.

Prevent it…prevent it
how
?

I could throw a shoe, yell out his name, burst in between them, and we’d end up in a fight at the end of the night and how I lost my damn chance with him and I should let him move on. It all makes sense in my head—how I should just walk away and let the chips fall.

But my body…my body sees their faces getting closer, and my hand knows there are about fifteen basketballs within reach. I tear my eyes away from the laughter and the smiles and fumble to get the ball in my hand, sliding my fingers on the rubber until I get a good grip. Without another thought I throw with all my muscle behind it.

When I was in high school, I could pitch a baseball at a dunking machine and hit it every time. It’s good to know that particular talent hasn’t waned over the years.

1 MONTH, 20 DAYS AGO: 9:33
P.M.

My apartment is shockingly clean. Probably the cleanest it’s ever been. I pulled out all the stops this Christmas because I’ve been working on the most epic gift in the world for
months
, and the setting has to be perfect when he opens it.

I turn on my electric fireplace—the first time this season, since I usually have shoes packed in front of it and I am not risking burnt UGGs—and clap my hands with a smile. This year started out rocky with the robbery, but it’s turned into a solid winner. I’ve finally deleted Eli’s number from my phone and forgiven myself for what I did to try to keep him. Liz and Landon are married now, but I was wrong about things changing too much. Even after Landon’s movie sold, Liz has still been just a few feet down the hall, there whenever I need her. Which is not so much lately. Alec and I are still toeing the platonic line, never crossing over into risky territory, despite my ever-growing feelings for him. There are times I’d like him to push me up against the fridge again and repeat that kiss.

But really, everything could stay exactly the way it is, and I’d die a happy woman.

Jinxing something by thinking about it is not a joke, I realize as I dip my spoon into a bowl of strawberry ice cream topped with Apple Jacks. Next time I think about things staying the same I’m going to snap a rubber band around my wrist.

The cold from the open refrigerator pours out over my legs, causing goose bumps and shivers as I sit on the tile floor. Food that I’ve foraged throughout the evening is strewn between me and Alec, and empty wineglasses rest by our hips.

“Why are we eating ice cream on Christmas?” Alec says, nodding at my bumpy bare skin before scooping a spoonful into his mouth.

“We eat ice cream when we’re sad.” I flick an Apple Jack from the top of my third scoop and it lands near a hole in his jeans. “Have you learned nothing, young Padawan?”

He scoots in closer to me, his cool arm pressing against my cardigan. “I can’t say that I’m surprised, though. We all knew this was going to happen.”

“They didn’t have to drop the bomb on Christmas.” I frown at my bowl, jabbing at the strawberry swirl, which looks a lot like California. Curse that place and its opportunities.

“Hmm.”

I toss him a glare. “ ‘Hmm’? That’s your input?”

His dimple creases as he half smiles. “I’m trying to figure out what’s the most helpful way to respond right now.”

“Aloof is not the most helpful,” I tease, tapping his nose with the business end of my spoon. He wipes away the ice cream residue, even though it looks ever so adorable on him.

“All right. Do you want me to deliver an abundance of optimism to drag you out of your sad ice cream eating, or would you like me to piss and moan, indulging you in your fear that things won’t go the way you hope they will?”

I shake my head, biting back a smile. “Curtain number two, please.”

“Damn those bastards,” he spits, getting a genuine laugh out of me. “I mean, really, how dare they.”

“Right? Moving across the country like that.”

“Getting movie deals and making money.”

I nod, scooping another bite into my mouth. “Having their dreams come true without us? What are they thinking?”

His half grin slowly morphs into a full one, making that dimple in his cheek so deep I have the sudden urge to kiss it. A schoolgirl butterfly flaps around in my chest, and I let it multiply until there’s no more room for sadness. I set my bowl down and reach to the open fridge door for the whipped cream. Alec shakes his head as I fill my mouth.

“Wam sum?” I ask, pointing the nozzle at his lips. He gently parts them and I press the nozzle until there’s nowhere for the cream to go but out his nose. I allow myself a few romantic thoughts, imagining that we’re not just two friends who just learned that their childhood friends are leaving, but perhaps two lovers who have no money to spend on a fancy date and are choosing to binge on whatever is in the kitchen. My eyes float down from his cheeks to his open collar and rolled-up sleeves. The muscles in his forearms are to die for. I remember holding on to them when we kissed so long ago, when we danced at Liz and Landon’s wedding, when he told me he loved me in the rain. I stare at his arms, wondering if they still yearn to hold me up.

“I never gave you your present,” I say, voice barely over a whisper.

“Ice cream and Apple Jacks aren’t it?” he teases, coaxing a small laugh out of me. I roll onto my stomach and stretch my arm out to the Christmas tree just outside the kitchen, set up in the dining area I never use. My fingers snag the ribbon and I carefully pull the gift back until it’s against his leg.

“You can listen to it later,” I tell him as he unwraps the USB and sheet music. “I wrote lyrics for it too, but I’m not exactly confident enough to sing them for you.”

The corner of his mouth picks up and he gives me a sidelong glance. “I’m going to listen to it now.”

I shake my head, cheeks filling with heat despite the cold from the open refrigerator. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You wrote me a song,” he says, hopping to his feet like his body can’t stop his inner childlike enthusiasm. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to wait.”

I get hold of his ankle and latch my arms around it. “Alec, not now,” I scold as he drags me into the living room, my legs kicking all the food on the floor. “Don’t you dare play that, or so help me, I will punch you in the butt cheek.”

His whole body shakes as he laughs, still pulling me literally kicking and screaming to the laptop. I reach up and grab the fabric around his thighs.

“Whoa!” he says, taking hold of his pants before I pull them down. I crawl my way up his body, jump onto his back, and reach for the USB, which his long arms keep just out of my grasp.

“Why give it to me if you don’t want me to hear it?”

“I want you to hear it. Alone. Far, far away from my very red cheeks.”

He manages to insert the USB into the laptop and tap on the mouse pad. I clap my hands over his ears, my heart spinning. His hands come up to my wrists, using gentle, playful pressure to get me to let go. He has no idea how much I want to keep holding him, though, and not just for the purpose of our game.

The first note echoes through my tiny laptop speakers, and he stops struggling under me. My hands drop to his strong shoulders, giving up, since he can hear it anyway. Landon helped me record it, using his studio equipment. It’s still fuzzy, not a professional recording by any means. Didn’t help that my hands were shaking for nearly the entire piece.

I press my nose into his spine, breathing hard into his button-down. My face is on fire, my palms sweaty, my throat dry and unable to swallow. He’s silent until the descant, and then his hands, his gentle, comforting hands, find the crooks of my knees, prodding me to slide off his back. He looks at me over his shoulder, showing off his one dimple.

“God, you are off-the-charts amazing, you know that?”

I resist the urge to hide my heated face, and I keep gazing into his eyes.

“Amazing?”

He lets out a laugh. “Sometimes.” Then his smile fades. “All the time.”

We listen to the rest, and I’m grateful he closes his eyes to soak it in instead of staring at me the whole time. After it’s done I rest my cheek on his arm and bask in the silence, which doesn’t last long, because silence isn’t my friend.

“It’s not the best, I know,” I blabber. “It was cold when I recorded, so the piano wasn’t really tuned and my hands were all shaky and—”

“I got an audition,” he blurts out. I blink a few times while I process what he’s staying, and then I grab his arm and spin him around.

“For Broadway?”

He nods, wincing at the hold I have on him. I promptly loosen my grip. “It’s in a couple of months. Valentine’s Day, actually.”

“Wow, Alec. This is huge. Big things are coming for you.” I mean it genuinely and with all the love a person can have for a friend who is going places, yet he must hear the sadness in my voice, because despite the joy and excitement, I can see him pulling a Liz and Landon and jetting off to bigger and better things if that’s what he wants.

“All right, you remember last Christmas?” he asks with a furrowing brow.

“As I recall, you gave me something I lost two weeks later.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up. “You may not have that necklace anymore, but…it still means the same thing it did back then.”

“But Broadway could be just the beginn—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes flick up to the clock I keep on my mantel as it rings twelve times. “Well, I should probably head out now…but I’m not leaving the state.”

He winks, and I laugh, shaking my head. Midnight. How fitting.

I get a sweet hand squeeze before he reaches for the USB and sheet music. I search for a reason to keep him here with me.

“You don’t have to go.” I fold my arms, adjusting my cardigan. “My bed has room for two.”

“Yeah, I do have to go. Tomorrow the post-Christmas sale at the store starts really early, and I sleep better in my own room.”

“My bed’s more comfortable,” I counter.

“How would you know?” he asks as he shoves his arms into his coat.

“I sleep longer and more soundly than you do.”

He tosses his head back, laughing at my ridiculous and false reasoning. I’m the one with the night terrors, though I don’t think I’ve had one in a while.

“Well, thanks for the offer,” he says, “but it’s not a good idea.”

My voice catches. “Why…why not?”

He leans in close, so close I can nearly taste his skin. His voice drops to a low, seductive whisper. “I can’t sleep with…without a fan.”

My held breath escapes in a snort, and I set a hand on his chest and nudge him back. “It’s December.”

“Still can’t do it.”

He starts making his way to the door, eyes shifting, and I can tell he’s ready to leave and he’s trying his best to be polite about it. So I let him win the argument. But my butterflies are melting into ice-cream-worthy sadness again.

I walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps into the hall. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as if he doesn’t want to use them anymore, but I throw my arms around his neck anyway. We are goodbye huggers, and I’m not stopping now, especially since he has healing arms.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper into his ear. He lets out a shaky breath, one of his hands sneaking out of his pocket and rising up my back. His fingers squeeze my ribs, and his face burrows into the crook of my neck. I float away and fall through the floor all at once, and my heart pulls a Grinch and bursts from my chest.

I am so in love with this man I can’t breathe.

Just as the thought forms in my head, Alec pushes away from me and speed-walks to the elevator. I’m left with the ghost of his arms still locked tight around my waist. I stumble back inside and fall to the floor, wondering if he’s still waiting for me, or if I lost that chance a long time ago.