Текст книги "For All You Have Left"

Автор книги: Laura Miller

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen
Sleepover

I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake up to a guy making pancakes on some show on TV. The light from the television is bright, and it forces my eyes shut. But when I feel warm breaths on my neck, my eyes shoot open again. And the first thing I notice is Jorgen’s arm wrapped around my waist. Then, one by one, the details come rushing back to me. We talked for a long time after dinner about everything and nothing simultaneously – everything from our favorite holiday to our least favorite Smurf. His were Groundhog Day and Gargamel. And even after I pointed out that Gargamel wasn’t a Smurf, he still picked Gargamel. I remember our silly conversations, but I don’t remember falling asleep.

I lie as still as possible, while I try to plot out my next move in my head. He’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake him, but I’m lying on my arm and it’s completely asleep. And I’m not so sure I really want to be here when he wakes up either. It would be weird. Right? I barely know him. And what if he’s weirded out? That would be even worse. And what if he smells my morning breath? Nope. That settles it. I’ve got to get out of here.

I carefully reach for my phone on the coffee table with the hand that’s not fast asleep and press a button. All at once, its light fills the small space around us, and I panic and instinctively cover the screen with my other hand. Oh Mylanta! I’m screaming on the inside. A thousand tiny needles are suddenly stabbing my sleepy arm.

I grimace and lose a breath, but Jorgen doesn’t stir. He seems to be unaffected by the light and my stabbing pain. I still don’t move though, at least not until I can finally shift my arm without feeling the sharp tingles.

After about a minute, the pain is bearable, and I slowly lift my hand up a little and peek at the big numbers etched across my phone’s screen. In a blinding, white glow, I read 2:30.

I clutch the phone in the palm of my hand and wait several seconds before carefully picking up his wrist with my two fingers and slowly sliding out from underneath his arm. His face shifts, and it stops me cold. I wait until he settles back into the throw pillow before I craftily stand up and turn back toward him to see if he’s still asleep. He is, and he looks perfect – peaceful, manly, sexy, perfect – and it makes me want to crawl right back under his arm, but I don’t. Instead, I grab the blanket at his feet, and I pull it to his shoulders and rest it gently against him. He is a beautiful creature. I wonder for a second how he got onto my couch, how he got into my life. I’m in awe of him in a way – in a way that I can’t quite explain yet. I mean, besides the attractive part, which he’s got down pretty well, he’s got this way about him that makes me feel so comfortable around him even though I barely know him.

He shifts on the couch, and I instantly hold my breath as I watch him grab the blanket, settle deeper into the leather and gradually grow still again before my eyes catch the remote sitting on the coffee table. I quietly reach for it and turn off the TV. Then, I stand there for a good minute, maybe longer, trying to figure out if I really do need to go to my bed. I think about it – hard – before I finally decide I should. I take one last look at him and silently sigh. I’m already kicking myself for leaving him as I slowly tiptoe out of the living room and to my bedroom. In the dark, I shimmy off my clothes, throw on my sweatshirt and boxers, slide under the covers and close my eyes. Somehow, I just know I’m going to regret this in the morning.

* * *

My alarm clock nearly gives me a heart attack, just like it does every morning. I turn over and let my hand fall heavy onto its top button until it’s quiet again.

It’s another minute before I finally crack one eye open and probably another five before I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Immediately, I feel the soft carpet under my bare toes, and one big yawn later, I’m on my feet.

My little apartment is draped in darkness, which doesn’t really matter because my eyes are barely open anyway. Good thing my walk is only one straight stretch.

Ten. Eleven.

I swing open the door, snatch up the morning paper and squeeze the rubber band off. The rubber band habitually slides onto my wrist as I open the newspaper to the last page. I shake the black and white sheets once to make them stiffen. Then, I swing around to the other side of the door and push my back against it until I hear it latch.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I drop the paper and let out a terrified, high-pitched scream. There’s a man on my couch, and it takes me a second before I realize who it is.

“Jorgen,” I finally say, once I’ve caught my breath. I’m literally panting as he sleepily sits up, wincing – no doubt from my Oscar-worthy scream.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No. I just…forgot you were here.”

“Did we fall asleep?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I think so.” I reach down and pick up the paper.

“Did you…sleep here?” he asks, eyeing the couch.

I nod my head. “For a little while. But then I went to my room.”

He looks kind of disappointed. “Well, I guess I better be gettin’ home so you can get ready for work.”

He stands up and walks over to me but then stops with only a foot between us. He’s so close that I can smell his sweet cologne again.

“Last night was…,” he says and then pauses, seeming to be searching for the right word.

“Nice,” he finishes.

He opens the door but then slowly turns back toward me and steals a glance at me through hooded eyes. “That outfit really does look good on you.”

I look down and notice my bare legs with the boxers nearly nonexistent. And instinctively, I roll my eyes and send him a playful smirk. But before I can even attempt anything resembling a comeback, he disappears behind the door, leaving me to my newspaper and my newfound giddy smile.

Chapter Fifteen
Leo

“So, what’s Lucas doing tonight?”

Hannah looks at me and pushes her lips to one side, as if she’s thinking.

“Video games; weird, scary movies; watching a rerun of some dumb, old football game – everything he can’t do when I’m there,” she says, sending me a devilish smirk.

“So, he’s in heaven?” I ask.

She laughs. “Of course.”

I plop down onto the couch with a big bowl of popcorn. “Okay, what are we watching?”

“Something really girly,” Hannah suggests. “And preferably something with Leo.”

“Oh, you know what?” I remember. “I just got The Great Gatsby…”

“No, you didn’t,” Hannah breaks in. She dramatically sighs and throws her hand to her heart. “I love Leo.”

“I’ll…take…that as a yes then.”

I get up, grab the movie and feed it into the DVD player. Then, I plop right back down onto the couch with the popcorn.

“You know, when we were kids, I was convinced that I was going to marry him,” Hannah says.

“You were also going to marry Prince William and one of the Hanson brothers too,” I remind her.

She stops and seems to think about it. “Dang it. I was, wasn’t I? What happened to me?”

I stare at her with knowing eyes.

“Lucas.”

She looks up at me and then nods her head. “Lucas,” she simply repeats, sighing happily to herself.

She grabs a handful of popcorn out of the bowl in my hands and shoves it into her mouth.

“Hey,” she says, still chomping on the corn.

I barely even make out the word, her mouth is so full. It’s a few seconds before she swallows and starts again.

“Do you remember that stupid game we made up when we were kids where we would pretend to sleep if someone came into a room?”

I start to laugh. “Yeah.”

“How did that start anyway?”

“Mom,” I say.

Hannah points her finger at me. “That’s right!”

“She would call us to do something, and we would just act like we were sleeping. Evidently, you don’t wake a sleeping kid.”

Hannah bursts into laughter. “We got out of doing so much work with that. How did she never catch on?”

I shake my head. “How was she never concerned by how much we were sleeping all the time?”

Hannah stops laughing and squints her eyes in what looks like a thought. “You know, I have no idea.”

She’s quiet for a little too long, so I look over at her and catch her smiling to herself.

“That was such a stupid game,” she adds.

I stuff a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “But it worked.”

Snickering, she dramatically nods her head. “That it did.”

“But, anyway,” she goes on, shifting slightly on the couch, “the first time I met Lucas, I was a freshman in college, as you know, and I was at a friend’s house. Lucas was there, but I had never met him before. He was the only person I didn’t know out of like maybe six or seven of us sitting in the living room that night.”

She stops and looks at me. “Have I ever told you this story?”

I start to shake my head. “Uh-uh, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she goes on without missing a beat. “Anyway, Andie, one of my friends, was just about to walk into the room when Lucas all of a sudden whispers ‘sleep.’ And almost by instinct, my head goes down and I close my eyes.”

All my attention darts to Hannah.

“No,” I say. “There can’t possibly be another soul in this world that knows the sleep game!”

“Well, he did,” she says.

“You’re kidding?” I think my jaw is stuck open.

“I know, right?” She laughs. “Everyone else just looked at us like we were crazy afterward. It’s such a stupid, simple game. But he knew it.”

She grabs another handful of popcorn. “I swear I fell in love with him right there.” I watch her shake a finger at me. “There’s always that moment when you just know you love someone.”

Hannah’s attention goes back to the screen then, while my mind travels back to Andrew and to a little dirt baseball field in the pouring rain. I had loved him before that day – even though I hadn’t realized it. But in that moment, in the pouring rain, I knew there was no turning back.

A few minutes pass before the old memory eventually fades and my mind gets stuck on Lucas again. “I still can’t believe he knew the sleep game.”

It looks as if Hannah just barely gets her eyes to leave Leo and to venture back to mine.

“How?” I ask. “And how have you never told me that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just always forget. Evidently, he made it up too. I think one day he did it to get his little cousins to stop bothering him or something and then he found out it could work as an easy prank, and then, I guess it just kind of stuck.”

“All this time, and I never knew.” I think about it for another second and then cock my head to the side. “Hannah, he’s like one of us.”

“I know!” she squeals. “And we’re such a rare, strange breed.”

“Yeah,” I say, still chewing my mouthful of popcorn. “I know.”

“God,” Hannah says, shaking her head. “We were a mess when we were kids.”

“That. We. Were,” I agree, drawing out every word for emphasis.

Hannah’s quiet then, and so am I. Leo has returned to the screen, and instinctively, our eyes are glued to him again. But it’s not long before Hannah breaks the silence.

“Hey, you remember when we tied James to that chair and left him under that old tree that one time?”

I almost spew my popcorn everywhere.

“He said he was Houdini.” The little details come flooding back to me – as if it all happened just yesterday. “He said he could get out of anything.”

“And he did get out of it,” Hannah says, dramatically nodding her head.

“Yeah, like twelve hours later!” I swallow and start to laugh. “Do you remember that night? James came walking into Grandma’s house right before dinner, and he was with Grandpa.”

“Yeah, and he looked so terrified.”

“Well, we had completely forgotten about him. It was dark, and he was only like seven. Wouldn’t you have been terrified?”

Hannah lowers her eyes, and her shoulders rock forward. It looks as if she’s trying not to laugh. “You know, Grandpa never said anything about it.”

I think back to it for a second.

“You know what? He didn’t,” I remember. “But I do think he made some kind of deal with James though because you and I both know that James didn’t get out of that chair alone.”

“Hell, no, he didn’t get out of it alone. I tied the knots! But what do you think the deal was?” she asks.

“I don’t know, maybe like Grandpa would go along with James’s story of him getting himself out of the chair if James wouldn’t tell Grandma what had happened.”

Hannah’s hand flies to her mouth. “You know, that makes sense because even though James bragged about getting himself free later, neither he nor Grandpa ever said a word about it at dinner.”

She pauses before she continues. “And plus, I guess Grandpa knew what he was doing. Remember when Grandma found out that James was our electric-fence tester?”

“Oh my gosh!” My hand instantly covers my heart. “I thought her eyes were going to pop right out of her head.”

“I know! All I remember is that she was holding that big ball of bread dough. Remember?”

I nod my head in confirmation.

“I know she thought about chucking it right at us.” Hannah grabs another handful of popcorn and stuffs it into her mouth. “But it’s not like we forced James to do it.”

I almost choke on a kernel.

“Hannah, you said if he didn’t do it, you’d tell everyone in the fifth grade that he used to wet his bed.”

Hannah’s eyes snap shut, and her narrow shoulders simultaneously jerk forward. “Oh, yeah.”

I throw a piece of popcorn at her.

“Poor James,” she adds, fishing the popcorn out of her hair.

I stare at her in amusement as she struggles to free the kernel from her long strands before my eyes slowly travel back to Leo on the screen. “Poor James,” I agree.

“Good thing you were nice to him,” Hannah says. I feel several popped kernels hit my head. “Or who knows how he would have turned out.”

I shield myself from the flying corn. “Yeah, I totally claim his normalness.”

We both look at each other then and laugh until our stomachs hurt because I think we both know that, based on our wild childhood, there’s not a good reason in this world as to why any one of us turned out fairly normal.

Chapter Sixteen
Eyes

“So, this is your place? It looks a lot like mine – just with different stuff.”

Jorgen laughs. “Imagine that.”

“I like it, though,” I say, still looking around.

None of the furniture matches, but somehow it all fits together okay. And there’s nothing on the walls really, except for a big, framed photo of the new Busch Stadium in the living room. Even it fits somehow.

“It’s got this inspiring, bachelor pad kind of feel.”

“Inspiring?” he asks.

My eyes continue to wander around the room, until they eventually catch on a tall lamp in the corner.

“Target?” I ask, gesturing toward the lamp.

He follows my stare to the corner.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

I laugh to myself.

“I must be psychic.”

He looks at me with two suspicious eyes.

“Or I have the same one in my bedroom,” I confess.

He chuckles and hands me an envelope.

“You know, you could have just thrown this away. I’m pretty sure I’m not the millionth customer and the brand new owner of a…” I stop and read the front of the envelope. “A 2014 Lexus IS 350 Sport.”

“Well, your name is on the envelope, and stealing someone’s mail IS a federal offense these days. Plus, then I wouldn’t have had a good excuse to get you over here to hang out with me.”

I’m trying not to smile as I fall into the couch next to him. But when I look up, his eyes are already on me, and I just can’t help it.

“You know,” I say and then stop.

He tilts his head a little to the side.

“You have really pretty eyes. They’re like the brightest blue I’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes, but they’re also kind of familiar in a strange kind of way.”

He lowers his head. “Thanks, I guess.”

I think I notice a little, bashful smile hanging on his lips.

“Does your sister have the same eyes?”

He sends me a questioning look.

“I don’t know,” I say in response to his look, “sometimes siblings share the same features – to where it’s almost eerie, you know?”

“Eerie?”

His forehead fills with little wrinkles.

“Yes, eerie,” I confirm with a laugh.

He shakes his head.

“No, she has green eyes – kind of like yours.”

I take a second and push my lips to one side. “Hmm.”

“That’s her in that photo up there,” he says.

My eyes follow his gesture toward the entertainment center where a small photo leans up against a couple of DVD cases. I get up and make my way over to it.

“She’s really pretty. What’s her name?”

I glance back at him. He’s propping his feet up onto his coffee table now.

“Lindsey,” he says.

I inspect the image a little more. “You guys have the same nose.”

“Really?” he asks, as if he’s never noticed.

“Yeah, if I didn’t already know you two were related, I’d guess it by your noses.”

I set the photo back down.

“What about you and Hannah? You guys don’t look much alike.”

“We have the same eyebrows.”

“Eyebrows?”

He asks it with so much disbelief that it makes me laugh. “I’m not kidding,” I say.

He stares at the space between my forehead and my eyes now. “How can anyone have the same eyebrows?”

I really try not to laugh, so he knows I’m serious, but in the end, I’m not very successful at it.

“Just look next time you see her. I promise,” I say, joining him on the couch again.

He nods his head, chuckling to himself. “Okay.”

I grab a throw pillow and squeeze it to my chest. I’m really surprised he even has a throw pillow until I feel something furry protruding from it. I quickly flip it around and notice there’s a bear on the other side with half of its body sticking out of the pillow. I slowly turn the pillow so that the bear is facing Jorgen.

He notices it and simply shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a hell of a decorator?”

My eyes playfully narrow on him.

“No?” he says.

I shake my head.

“Okay, my mom and dad went to Colorado a few years back. It’s a souvenir.”

I nod my head in satisfaction.

“Better,” I say.

The room is quiet then as my eyes fall to the bear in the pillow again. What a strange, little pillow. I squeeze it to my chest and look back up at Jorgen when a thought crosses my mind.

“Jorgen.”

“Hmm?” he asks.

“What’s your middle name?”

He just stares at me with no expression written on his face whatsoever, and after a moment, he shakes his head. “Nah,” he says.

I feel my face crumpling in confusion, but I’m also trying to hold back a laugh. He looks so serious all of a sudden. “What?”

“Nah,” he says again, still shaking his head.

He runs his hand through his hair and then his palm down his thigh as if he’s nervous or something.

“What? Come on. You know mine.”

“Yours is a good one, though.”

“Jorgen, it can’t be that bad.”

He just gives me the most serious stare down I’ve ever seen, but it only makes me laugh.

“Jorgen,” I scold playfully.

His stoic features don’t budge.

“Okay, if I can guess it, you’ll confirm it, right?”

“You’ll never guess it.”

“First letter,” I say.

He seems to think about it for a second, as if he’s not even sure he wants to give that much away.

“Fine,” he pouts. “F.”

“F?”

He nods his head.

“Okay. Frank?”

“No,” he says.

“Ferdinand?” I guess again.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Fffffido?”

“What?” He laughs. “Like the dog?”

It’s the first smile from him in nearly a minute.

“Well, I can’t think of any more names that start with F. Come on, Jorgen, just tell me.”

He closes his eyes and then mumbles something under a heavy breath.

I tilt my head to the side. “What was that?”

“Felix,” he says, a little louder this time.

“Felix?” I ask. “Like the cat?”

His eyes dart to mine, and at last, a grin pushes past his lips. “Like the cat,” he confirms, lowering his eyes and looking defeated.

I throw the bear-pillow his way. It hits his arm and falls into his lap. I watch him retrieve it and then slowly look back up at me through hooded eyes.

“I like it,” I say.

“You have to say that.”

“What? Why do I have to say that?”

“Because you’re nice, and I’m sitting right here,” he explains.

“Not true,” I say. “Even if I were mean, and you were sitting millions of miles away from me on some couch holding a bear-pillow on Pluto, I would still like it. It’s a very strong name. It fits you,” I add.

I watch a smile slowly start to edge its way across his tan face, and before I know it, I’m stuck in his eyes again.

“What?” he asks, after a few moments of my staring.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “They’re just so unique, but so familiar.”

“My eyes?”

“Mm hmm,” I confirm.

He looks down, and his big eyelashes seem to rest on his cheeks for a moment before he locks gazes with me again.

“Well, maybe we knew each other in another life,” he offers.

I lower my head and gently laugh, until I feel his hand on my chin. He lifts my face until my eyes are even with his.

“Or maybe we were just meant to find each other in this one,” he says, smiling softly.

My heart breaks a little. I want to believe him.

Then, suddenly, I’m aware of my every breath and his too, as each falls one by one onto my lips. I close my eyes. I want to give in, but instead, I panic.

“Or maybe we shared an alley in our cat lives,” I push out, opening my eyes again.

Jorgen’s gaze falls from mine, but it returns only moments later.

“That’s probably it,” he says, softly chuckling to himself.

I laugh too, but mine is a nervous one. I pray he doesn’t notice.

“Come here,” he says, pulling me closer to him.

I let him put his arm around me and rest his hand on my thigh. Then, I lean into him and lay my head gently onto his chest, and instantly, I can feel his heart beating. I’m still not sure how I fit into this new life yet. I’m still trying to figure it all out as fast as I can without falling to pieces in the process, but I also don’t know how much longer I can resist this beautiful creature beside me.