Promise (11 page)

The TV's menu screen silently glowed bright
blue.

"Oh." I snuggled back against him. "Can we
just stay here?"

"I think I better go," he said quietly.

He stood up and pulled me up, too. I held his
hand as we walked to the door, and then he pulled me to him. Sparks
flew through me again as he leaned over and kissed me. I wrapped my
arms around his neck, dug my fingers into his hair and pulled
tightly as I kissed him back. Passion rose as his mouth traveled
along my neck and jaw line and his hands slid down my back,
pressing me against him when his lips returned to mine. A tiny
sound might have escaped from me. I don't know. His touch and scent
and taste all together at once overwhelmed me.
Losing control
again
….

He abruptly pulled back. Those flames sparked
in his eyes again, glowing brighter than before. I stepped back,
surprised (
frightened
).

"Yes, I better go," he muttered. He was out
the door before I could react.

I stood there breathless, not able to say
anything because I didn't know what would come out.
Yes, go. No,
stay!

"I'll see you in the morning. We have more
studying to do," he called over his shoulder. I shut the door and
slid to the floor—my legs weak, my insides still throbbing and my
heart racing. I stayed there while I listened to the motorcycle's
engine fade into the night.

A knock at the door startled me back to
alertness. I stood up and peeked through the window.

"Owen?" I said with shock, pulling the door
open. "It's two in the morning. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Alexis." He seemed to be giving me a
once-over. "I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to make sure
you were okay. I know you're home alone and I saw the lights
on…."

What the…?

"Uh, I'm fine." I stared at him with
bewilderment.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," he mumbled as he
turned to leave. "Sorry to bother you."

He started down the walkway.
Oh, no. Oh,
no, she didn't!

"Hey, Owen?" I called after him.

He stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Did Sophia put you up to this?"

He started walking again and called back,
"Just doing my job, Alexis."

Son of a witch!
She had Owen checking
up on me. And he'd conveniently shown up right after Tristan left,
as if he'd been watching.
A babysitter?! Seriously?!

But then I wondered if it had been Owen whom
I heard outside last night, checking on me. That would be a good
thing. He gave good vibes and Mom trusted him, so I should, too.
Right?

***

Tristan showed up at the door at ten the next
morning with coffee, croissants and his backpack in hand and we
spent the morning studying. By one o'clock, he'd had enough. He
strode over to the backdoor and gazed out the window.

"It's a beautiful day for a ride," he hinted.
When I didn't answer, he came over to my chair, dropped on his
knees, clasped his hands together and stuck his lower lip out
deliciously. He lowered his voice. "Please?"

Like I could resist that. Or the offer.

"Why not? My brain's fried, too."

He grinned. "You'll want to put on jeans and
real shoes. No flip-flops for this ride."

We cruised the streets of Cape Heron, and
then headed for I-75.
Holy crap!
What am I thinking?
I panicked at the realization of having absolutely no control—I put
my life into his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto
Tristan tightly, my muscles tense as the wind rushed against my
face and the sounds of cars and trucks seemed way too close.
Exhaust fumes and the smell of hot rubber filled my nose. My body
was welded to Tristan's back by the time we left the highway only a
couple exits later. I breathed a sigh of relief that we
survived.

At the slower speed, the ride was
spectacular. The sun shone brightly in the clear October sky and
the smell of oily warmth rose off the pavement. After a while, we
crossed the causeway to Gasparilla Island. I rested my chin on
Tristan's shoulder as we cruised along the tree-lined boulevard,
catching an occasional glimpse of the Gulf of Mexico on one side
and the bay on the other, between the large houses. We rode through
the quaint little town of Boca Grande, which reminded me a lot of
Cape Heron. He stopped the bike in a parking lot at the end of the
island and we gazed over the sugary sand and steel-blue water as
pelicans dive-bombed for their dinner. Two dolphins jumped and
twisted in the air, playing with each other.

"Nice, huh?" Tristan asked.

"Perfect," I breathed. I was still close
against him, my arms wrapped around his waist. He held my hands in
front of him.

"Let's take a walk and stretch our legs, then
I'll take you out to dinner."

As we rode down my street later, sadness grew
within me, knowing our perfect day was coming to a close. Night had
fallen and the street was quiet except for the Harley's distinct
rumble. As we pulled in front of the cottage and I saw Mom's car in
the driveway and a light on inside, I was sadder still that our
perfect weekend was over. We both took a deep breath and sighed
heavily after he cut the engine, knowing the next few minutes, at
least, wouldn't be pleasant. I leaned against the backrest, not
wanting to get off yet.

"Do you know why she doesn't like me?"
Tristan asked.

"No, not really."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'm
sure she's worried about you because she loves you. And she has
valid reasons for feeling the way she does, so you should probably
listen to her."

That sounded like a warning. Of what, I
wasn't sure and I didn't want to know. Not now.

I leaned my forehead against his back and
whispered, "Please don't."

"Don't what? Don't be honest?" His voice was
low and heavy.

I sighed.
Why should we start now?
But
that's not what I'd meant.

"Tristan, I don't know what will happen as
soon as we walk in there. I've never seen her like this. But I had
an amazing weekend with you and that's how I want to leave it. Let
her be the one to ruin it. Not you. Please?"

He didn't respond right away.

"Understood," he finally said. I reached my
arms around him and he took my hands in each of his and gave them a
squeeze. "Just one thing, though. Just remember it's your life,
Alexis. Do what you need to do for you. Not for me, not for her.
Okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I answered simply, but
what he suggested was impossible. I didn't like upsetting Mom. I
wanted her to be happy. And I wanted Tristan to be happy, too,
because that's what he gave me. I couldn't do anything for me
without some kind of consequence. I had to find a way to reconcile
these differences.
Mom just needs to get to know him.
That
was the answer. Surely she'd come around then, when she realized he
was nothing like Lenny or his other relatives. If only she'd give
him the chance….

"You had an amazing weekend with me, huh?"
Tristan asked, his voice light and lovely again as we walked up to
the cottage hand-in-hand.

"Very amazing." I smiled at him. "No matter
what happens, it was worth it."

"I agree." He squeezed my hand, smiling back.
"And thank you for telling me how you feel."

The door flew open before we reached the
front porch. Mom stood in the doorframe, crossing her arms and
glaring at us.

"Alexis," she said curtly. "Tristan."

"Hi, Sophia, how was your…uh…convention?" I
asked, trying in vain to sound relaxed and nonchalant.

She glared at Tristan and I saw him shake his
head out of the corner of my eye, answering her silent
question.

"Not what I hoped it would be," she answered
coldly, still staring at Tristan. Her eyes softened just a bit,
though, as if his keeping her secrets meant something to her.

We all stood there awkwardly in deafening
silence.

"I think I better go…" Tristan broke it
first. It was almost a question, though.

"That's a good idea." Mom leaned inside the
door, picked something up, and held his backpack out to him.

He took the bag and squeezed my hand. "See
you in class tomorrow."

Mom closed the door and followed me to the
kitchen table, where my books were still spread out, waiting for my
return.

"Alexis, I need to talk to you."

"I really need to study. Mid-terms
tomorrow."

"Please. Just listen for a minute."

I plopped onto a chair and looked at her
expectantly, waiting for the lecture or tirade or whatever was
coming. But she surprised me.

"Listen…there are apparently things I just
need to work out with myself. There's obviously nothing I can do
about this." She threw her hands in my direction, but I knew she
meant "this" to mean Tristan and me together, as a couple. "Did you
spend a lot of time with him this weekend?"

I hesitated before answering, but I couldn't
lie. "Yes."

"And you obviously still like him?"

"Yes."

"Anything more?"

"I don't know. Maybe." I sighed. "I think
so."

She pursed her lips together and stared at me
for a long moment. "Just don't rush into anything too serious,
okay?"

I didn't answer and she sighed.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have said that. You
do what you feel is right and I'll just have to accept it. I knew
it was coming. It was just a matter of when."

She lost me. "Is this specifically about
Tristan or just about me getting serious with anyone in
general?"

She pondered this question. "Both. But, in
the end, it doesn't matter. You're going to do what you want and so
is he. I know everything will go the way it's supposed to. It will
be good."

She said those last two sentences as if
trying them on, feeling for their meaning, deciding if she truly
believed them. Her face showed she didn't, but wanted to, kind of
doubtful and hopeful at the same time. I debated whether to force
an explanation and decided to let it go, for now, anyway.

"Thanks, Mom." I threw myself at her in a
grateful hug—grateful for her blessing and her return. She didn't
let go and I knew she missed me, too. "There's just one other
thing."

She stepped back and studied my face, her own
expression leery.

"I feel really good with Tristan and I'm
learning to trust him. So…" I hesitated, bracing myself. "There
might come a time when he needs to know about things. You
know…things I don't know yet."

"Alexis—"

"If he understands, maybe he won't get mean
or run." My voice cracked on the last word.

Mom put her hands on my shoulders. "You
do
really like him, don't you?"

I nodded. She sighed.

"Let's just see how it goes, okay? Maybe we
can talk about this again later…or maybe it won't be necessary."
With a kiss to my forehead and a turn on her heel, she clearly
stated the discussion was over. I didn't know if I'd won just a
little or not.

She went to bed and I reviewed my notes one
more time. Just as I finished, there was a tap on the kitchen door.
I nearly fell out of my seat at the seemingly loud sound in the
dead silence. I sat there, frozen, trying to figure out what to do.
My heart had jumped at the sound and now it raced.
Should I
run?
I glanced over at the knife block on the counter.
Fight?

Another tap on the door's window.

Would they really knock first?

"Alexis, it's me." Low, sexy voice muffled
through the glass pane.

I laughed internally at myself and hurried
over to open the door.

"What are you
doing
?" I whispered.
"You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." He grinned, like he really wasn't.
"I just had to make sure she hadn't killed you or planned to take
you away or anything."

I smiled giddily. "No, actually, I think it's
all good."

"Okay, good." It came out as sort of a whoosh
of relief.

"Is that it?" I asked when he just stood
there.

"Well…I didn't get to say good-bye and I
couldn't sleep without this." He bent over and brushed his lips
across mine. Then he smiled and winked. I stared at him, dazed.
"Okay, better. I can sleep now. Good night."

"'Night," I murmured. He disappeared into the
darkness.

Our glorious weekend stretched into the
following weeks. We watched sunsets and cooked dinner for Mom. She
watched us carefully at first, but seemed to be coming around.

We played Baby Steps every day. He got a
question and I got a question. They often led to more questions,
but they were generally superficial topics. We discovered we had
similar tastes in music—a preference for alternative rock, but
could enjoy anything but rap. I learned he wanted to be an engineer
or an architect. He'd lived in many places throughout Europe, as
well as several cities in the U.S., had spent time in Japan to
study Aikido and had traveled to every continent except
Antarctica.

He learned I'd never been out of the country
but had a passport because Sophia thought it practical, and I took
four years of Spanish in high school and could say maybe five full
sentences and count to one-hundred. I told him I could name every
Edgar Allan Poe story and recite by heart nine Emily Dickinson
poems. I even admitted I'd tried my own hand at poetry.

I learned he didn't like Halloween, saying it
wasn't right that little kids wanted to be witches, vampires and
other monsters. I admitted I'd always been a witch or a vampire,
but always a good one—as a vampire, I carried around a cup of donor
"blood." He guessed correctly it was Mom's idea. She preferred
fairies, princesses and humorous costumes to the gory and scary
ones. He asked Mom if my interest in monsters and fantastical
creatures was healthy. She just laughed. I talked him into taking
me to a couple haunted houses and he growled fiercely at the
monster-actors, making
them
jump and shriek. I laughed so
hard I almost peed my pants. He admitted it was the most fun he'd
had on Halloween.