Through Her Eyes (22 page)

Making my way to them, I kneeled closer to get a better look.

“Umm—are you moving?”

“No. Why would you think that?” he shouted over the splash of the running water.

“I totally thought you were moving in with Melanie,” I say from beneath my breath.

“Oh, God no. Actually, I just broke up with her.” My shoulders visibly dropped with relief.

“Why?”

“I realized she wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh? What is it you want?” Please say me. Please.

“Not sure yet. But not her. Maybe just to be single, play the field.” It felt as if I’d been sucker punched. It was time to admit Parker would never see me as anything more than a friend. It was time to retire my plans of him having an epiphany that he was madly in love with me and he dreamed of growing old together. No more. This time I meant it. I was moving on.

“So if you aren’t moving, what the hell are these?” I pointed to the open boxes on the floor.

He peered his head out the door and followed my gaze. “Everest’s shit.”

Parker shut the bathroom door, so I took the opportunity to look in some of the boxes. I picked up an interesting stone. The rock appeared to be limestone, but I couldn’t be sure without asking Parker, and I knew he wouldn’t approve of my snooping. Next, I pulled out a handmade and mostly brass-plated Buddha. Who the fuck was this guy? I knew little to nothing about him. All I knew was he was a thorn in my side since Parker’s freshman year of college.

They had been roommates back then, and I had still never met him. He was always traveling, going places, and dragging Parker along. Never around whenever I visited, making Parker miss trips home to travel with him instead. Honestly, I was starting to take it personally. As though he was purposely evading me so he didn’t have to hear the hatred I wanted to spew at him. I was sure Parker had told him my thoughts on him. Recently I had not been quiet about my feelings over this friend I had never met. The toilet flushed, and I silently replaced the mini statue.

“So . . . Everest . . . you’re storing his stuff here because—?” I couldn’t hide the disdain in my voice.

“He’s moving in.”

“What? Are you serious?” My fingers gripped at the skin on my arm, turning my knuckles white and aggravated.

“Well, not so much moving in as storing his shit here. He travels a lot for work and needs a home base, so I figure it’s a win-win. He’ll pay half the rent and never steal my food.” Typical Parker, always about the food.

“Figures you have some ulterior motive. So, when will I finally get to meet this guy?”

“Oh, you just missed him.”

“Seriously? This is ridiculous, already. I really want to meet him! We’ve been friends for years so how the hell have I not met this guy?”

“We could wait for him to get back, but your mom will freak if you’re late. Next time.”

“It’s almost like you never want me to meet him. Is he hot or something and you’re afraid I’ll fall madly in love with him?” His eyes became insanely dark. Was he jealous? My hopes began to rise. Little butterflies danced in my stomach.

“God, no,” he said, crushing my heart. The feeling coursing through me stung. It hurt worse than ever before because after telling myself I should never hope for anything more than friendship from Parker, I had gone and believed, only to be shot down again.

“It’s just that we’re in a rush. I promise next time. Okay?” I shrugged.

“Sure. Whatever. I’m never going to meet this guy. It’s not even like you told me why the stupid nickname.”

“He climbed Everest, That’s why. Okay, seriously. We’ve got to go or we’re going to be late.”

Pulling Chase’s arms tighter around my body, I sink into his embrace and enjoy the explosions of color above us. Everything I need right now is here with me, and I won’t allow myself to get lost in my memories.

Eleven days since I met Chase

Ten days since my life completely changed

I
WAKE UP THIS
morning and realize that yesterday was the first day I hadn’t counted the days since I spoke to Parker. My brain sorts through numbers, and I realize I can’t even remember how many days it’s been. I feel guilty, but then I feel Chase stir under my body, and I turn my head to burrow myself into his nook. Chase Porter is my salvation. He’s opened my eyes to so much in such a short time. It’s insane. I can thank him for the rest of my life and it will never be enough. Through him, each day, I’m learning to live in the moment.

“Thanks for making me whole again,” I whisper into his bare chest. I place a small kiss over his heart.

“I didn’t do anything. You did it all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through my locks. The caress is soft, and I wonder if I imagine it. My stomach growls silently, but I don’t want him to stop touching me.

I want him to touch me everywhere. The pressure of his body underneath me lights me on fire. I’m drowning in emotions for this man, but this time I’m not afraid. These feelings are completely unique to anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never felt so close to anyone. I feel as if his soul has melded to mine.

Throwing my leg over his, I straddle his naked body. His gaze travels over me and searches my eyes. I’m stripped bare emotionally in front of him. Chase’s large hand takes hold of my face and lightly strokes my cheek. He traces the contours, then slides further down to
my collarbone. His hand continues its exploration until his grip tightens around my waist. Then he brings them around back, trailing soft touches up and down my spine. The man treats me as if I’m a priceless masterpiece. I align myself above him, teasing him.

“I need to grab—” he starts, but I cut him off. I don’t want anything between us. I just want to feel him.

“I’m safe. I want to feel all of you,” I say. I continue to stroke him against my heat until I can’t take much more. He nods in approval, and I lower myself. My body molds to him as his fills mine to completion. Once he’s all the way seated inside me, I begin to rock up and down on his thick length. He meets me stroke for stroke. Our rhythm growing more frantic the closer we get. A moan of ecstasy slips through my lips as I climb higher than I think possible. I shatter into a million pieces and then he pulls me toward him, putting me back together with one single kiss.

“We should head back to Positano. I was thinking this time we could go all the way up to the ‘Path of the Gods.’ It’s really the best view of the Amalfi Coast.” He reclaims my lips, and then pulls away. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“Want some company?” I slip my hand up his arm, trying to bring him back to me.

“As much as I want to say yes, I fear if you join me, we’ll never leave.”

“And that’s a problem because?” I playfully drag my fingertips down to reach his hand, but he laughs and shakes me off.

“Because believe it or not, I’m here for work.” He pulls out of my grasp and walks to the ottoman sitting at the foot of the bed. He starts to rummage through his backpack on top of it.

“Aw yes, I did almost forget that.”

He pulls his camera from his backpack, and then grabs my hand to position me directly in front of the window beside the bed. Gathering a black sheet, he secures it to the wall behind me, hanging it from the edge of the painting fastened to the wall.

“Place your hand under your chin,” he directs.

“What are you doing?

“Trust me, will you? The effect will be incredible.”

I place my fingers under my chin, allowing them to curl up over my lip. “Do I just sit here like this?”

“Stop talking. This will come out amazing.”

My life isn’t amazing, nor is it extraordinary. There’s nothing particularly special about me, but when I’m with Chase, he makes me feel special—as if I’m so much more. I believe him when he says it will be amazing.

The click of the camera has become a calming sound for me. I’ve grown so used to Chase snapping shots of me it’s now just a soft hum.

After Chase is done getting the perfect shot, he lays the camera on the bedside table and then heads to the bathroom to get ready. Not even a minute passes before I hear his voice over the running water.

“Hey, Princess. Will you grab me a razor? It’s in my bag by the wall.” I move across the room to open his small carry-on suitcase that for some reason is in this cabin. Somewhere between Capri and Positano, Luciano decided to move things along and have us bunk together. I laughed so hard yesterday when we returned to find his bag placed on my bed. I unzip it and rummage through, but come up empty-handed.

“It’s not in there,” I shout through the half-open door.

“Oh. It might be in my backpack.”

I move back to the ottoman, open the zippered top and start digging around. After an extensive search, my fingers finally find the razor. As I grab it, I come in contact with something that feels a lot like a postcard. Pulling it out to have a better look, everything around me stops.
What the hell?
The words on the paper begin to waver from staring at it so intently. My heart starts to hammer in my chest.

Thump, Thump

Thump, Thump

The sounds around me become a hum as the room begins to spin. My erratic breathing makes me dizzy as the anger rises. The emotions I feel are palpable, like a crimson haze coursing through me. I attempt to calm my body by taking a deep breath. Chase’s footsteps echo in the small space.

“Why do you have this?” My eyes still won’t leave the card. The words I’ve written are barely legible through the tears teasing at my lids. I peer up and find Chase staring at me, and his mouth opens and then closes.

“Why the fuck do you have this?” My voice rises with each word that erupts from my mouth.

“I—”

“You what? Fucking speak!”

“I can explain.”

“You can explain this? I sent this to my friend Parker. How do you have this postcard?”

Tension radiates off Chase as I hold the postcard in my hand. The postcard of the Brooklyn Bridge. The postcard I sent to Parkers apartment the day I left New York. The postcard he shouldn’t have. His blue eyes focus on the nondescript piece of paper that an unobservant onlooker would never know was so important. His brows draw together. A small frown line creases between them.

“Please, Ari. Please let me explain.” The nickname slips out, and he clasps his hand over his mouth.
Ari, Ari, Ari.
The name only Parker calls me.

“Don’t call me that. Ever!” I say though clenched teeth.

“Please, Aria.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I can explain, Princess.”

“You lost the right to call me Princess when you left a small fact out. Explain. Explain how you have this! Fucking explain! Because I don’t understand how you can have this in your possession. How the fuck do you have this, Chase? Who the fuck are you?” I clench my stomach as tears roll from my eyes. I lurch forward, dry heaving. “Who the fuck are you?” I scream as my breathing becomes more erratic.

“Shh, calm down.” Sobs wrack my body. “Stay in the present,” he says, and Parker’s words rush through me. Memories become so vivid I can’t push them away as my
world crashes around me. Thoughts once lost in my subconscious infiltrate my mind—and that’s when I know. I know exactly who he is.

The words he’d spoken so many times finally come into focus, and I realize why they sounded so familiar. Why
he
always seemed so familiar.

“Ari, as my friend Everest always says . . . Stay in the present. Don’t live in the past. Be strong. Be you.”

My eyes meet his, and realization dawns on him. He knows that I know.

“Let me explain.” His eyes slide down and lock on the ground at his feet. His hands reach to his temples, and he begins to scrub at them. I’ve never seen him look this way. But it doesn’t matter. He lied. Everything was a lie. He’s a lie.

“You’re him?”

“I—”

“Are. You. Him?”

“Yes.”

“How could you? I opened up to you. I told you about my parents. Oh my God. I told you about Parker!” I dry heave again, and then his phone goes off. The sound of the vibrating burns at my ears. When he reaches for it I want to smash it, scream, ‘How dare you check it! How dare you find me of so little importance that you would dare look!’

Then I notice the look in his eyes, and I realize something is seriously wrong. A shiver runs through me. Chase stands taller, gathering his composure. The change in his voice is evident.

“You need to go home.”

“Shut up, I don’t need to listen to anything you say. You’ve been lying to me this whole time. You knew who I was.” My rage starts to ignite like a fire burning within me.

“But—”

“But nothing . . . Everest. You lied. There’s nothing you can say now that’s going to change the fact that you knew exactly who I was when we met.” With brisk steps he makes his way to me, reaching out his hand to touch me. I swat it away.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” I grit out. “Don’t come anywhere near me. I never want to see you again.”

“Just listen to me, Aria. You need to go home.”