Ashe had watched my performance. As we walked to get coffee, I tried to wrap my head around that.
Aside from Gran, he was the only other person who had ever come to see me onstage. A man who had appeared in my life, completely out of nowhere, and now, every time I was around him, my chest tingled. My hands wanted to link with his just to feel the warmth of his skin.
But each time, I stopped myself, not letting myself go there. There, I had learned, would be the end of everything I had built. I just had to get through the next two years of school, and then I would be packing up our apartment and getting Gran out of here.
As Ashe held the door open to an all-night diner and I walked in from out of the cold, I was going against every rule I had set.
Fifteen minutes, I promised myself, and then I’m out of here.
Things were over between us before they even had a chance to start.
A waitress saw us come in and pointed to the large dining room. “Sit anywhere. I’ll be over with menus in a minute.”
I led us to a booth and slid most of the way in while Ashe took a seat across from me.
“This place has the best pie,” he said, eyeing the counter, where there was a display case, several pieces sitting on plates inside. “Are you a fan?”
“Of pie?” I shrugged. “Sure.”
“What’s your favorite kind?”
I crossed my legs under the table, my hands resting on top of them, fingers clinging together. “I’ve only ever had pumpkin.”
I thought of the pie Gran used to make for the holidays every year before her hands hurt too badly to bake. That dessert would be our treat for the whole week, and we’d split a piece each night. My stomach would feel so full from the thick creaminess that when it was time to go to bed, I would almost instantly fall asleep.
Ashe rested his arms on the table, and even though we were separated by a few feet of Formica, it felt as though our bodies were touching. “What? Only pumpkin?”
“I’m not much of an experimenter when it comes to food.”
Conversation.
It could be my worst enemy at times, like now, as he opened boxes he didn’t even realize were closed. Ones I’d moved into the attic of my brain, taped multiple times with several inches of dust resting on top. Where most attics were full of clothes and keepsakes, mine overflowed with memories.
Moments that I didn’t care to revisit with him—or anyone.
“We need to change that,” he said right before the waitress came to our table, placing menus in front of us.
“Just coffee for me, thank you,” I said, handing back the large, laminated sheet, not needing to be tempted by any of the descriptions when I’d spent money on the food I had at home.
“Same,” Ashe replied, “and a slice of every flavor of pie you have.”
“We have six kinds,” the waitress said.
He smiled at me. “Then, we’ll take six pieces.” When the waitress left, he said, “You’re going to be an experimenter tonight.”
I took in the light blue of his eyes, wondering how difficult it was going to be to avoid him in the future if he continued pulling stunts like he had tonight. “You’re too much.”
“I want to see your expression when you try them. I assure you, there are much better flavors than pumpkin.”
“But that’s such a classic.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t good. I’m just saying there’s better.” He spread his arms out a little farther, making it feel like he was now on top of me. “I want to know more about you, Pearl. I’ve seen the girl onstage, who poured her heart out. I know you’re a theater major and you share an elective with Dylan, you don’t drink and you work in a bar, and you study for fun.” He smiled, and it was the most beautiful sight. “But where are you from? Why did you choose BU? Why theater?”
My hands began to heat as I rubbed my linked fingers together. “I’m from Boston; I’ve lived in different sections of the city my whole life.” I took a breath. “BU has one of the best theater programs in the area, and acting is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
The waitress delivered the coffee, and I watched Ashe mix cream and sugar into his, whereas I left mine black.
I held the cup, staring at the dark drink. “Painters empty their emotions onto a canvas. Writers craft words. I take on personalities that are so far from my own.”
His lids squinted, as though he was processing what I’d just said. “Why are you always running?”
“Time works against me.”
“Has it always been that way?”
I sighed, my brain gazing at all the boxes, the years before I had moved in with Gran. “Yes.”
The waitress returned to our table, her tray covered in small plates. “Blueberry,” she said, setting down the first one. “Apple, strawberry, peach, peanut butter, and cherry. You didn’t ask for ice cream, but I brought some anyway—on the house.” She placed a soup bowl between us that was filled with scoops of vanilla. “Have fun.”
I laughed as she walked away, gazing at the buffet he had ordered. “My God, Ashe.”
He picked up his spoon. “Let’s start with the blueberry.”
He faced the point of the slice toward me.
I cut off a small piece. “Mmm.” As I chewed, the tartness of the fruit slowly unraveled, the sweetness coming in next. “I like it.”
“Now, with ice cream.” He took a spoonful and added it to his second bite.
I did the same, the vanilla cutting some of the sweetness of the blueberry, making it taste even better. “Wow.”
“You’ve really only ever had pumpkin? I thought apple was a staple in most people’s homes.”
“It probably is,” I said, moving to the next plate. “Just not in mine.” This one happened to be the apple, and I chewed the large chunk, the buttery crust exploding with a rich cinnamon flavor, like the topping I sprinkled on Gran’s oatmeal. “This one is excellent too.”
“Agreed.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do you live in the dorms, or do you have a place off campus?”
I swallowed the apple and went in for more. “Off campus.”
“In which part of the city?”
While thinking of a way to dance around his question, I moved on to the cherry. The minute it hit my tongue, I responded, “Not for me.”
“It’s not a flavor I really like either, but I wanted you to try it.”
He moved that one off to the side. I hated to see any food wasted, but it was too sweet to take another bite.
I dug my spoon into the edge of the peanut butter, and as soon as it dissolved in my mouth, I couldn’t stop myself from moaning.
“Sounds like you have a favorite.”
I nodded, covering my lips with the back of my hand. “This is amazing. Rich but perfect.”
The strawberry and peach were also good, but neither was as tasty and delicious as the peanut butter, so that was what I returned to. I took some ice cream with me and loved that bite even more. As I chewed, I felt his eyes on me, and I was sure he was waiting for a response to his previous question.
I set down my spoon, needing a break from the sweetness, and took a drink of my coffee. When I finally glanced at him, I took a few seconds before I said, “I live in Roxbury. It’s where I grew up—well, mostly grew up.” The corner of a box was eyeing me, and I shoved it away. “I live with my grandmother. She has crippling arthritis that’s made her disabled, so I take care of her. We take care of each other actually.”
“That wasn’t easy for you to say.”
I was shocked by his observation. But that only lasted a moment before I came to the realization that he saw things most people didn’t, and I shouldn’t have been surprised at all.
“To be honest, I just want to run right now.”
“Why?”
I held the air in my diaphragm, hoping that would stop my heart from beating so fast. “Because I’m not normally in situations where I have to answer questions like this. Aside from Erin, the bartender at work, I don’t talk to many people.” I focused on the swirls in the pie crust, his eyes just too much for me. “Ashe, I run to class, usually late from taking care of Gran in the morning. I run to study groups, always behind from speaking to my professors after class. I run to theater practice and then to work, consistently late and needing every tip I can get because I support us. I then run home to check on Gran, and I study all night. I wake up and do it all over again.”
“You’re remarkable.”
“No.” I shook my head. My intentions had not been to goad him into a compliment I certainly didn’t deserve. I just wanted him to understand, although I wasn’t sure why. “I’m just like anyone else who’s trying to survive in this world with a lot of responsibilities on my shoulders.”
“You’re nothing like them, Pearl. You have more on your plate than any student I know, and look at everything you’ve managed to accomplish. Most would be drowning, but you’re thriving.”
When I looked at him, there wasn’t pity in his eyes. Instead, there was the same expression as when he’d met me at the bottom of the stairs behind the theater. “Thank you … I …” I held his stare, the emotions bubbling in my chest. “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”
“I’m happy you did.” He wrapped his hands around his mug. “Plus, it sounded like you needed to get that out.”
I didn’t discuss these things with anyone. I didn’t write them down. I just released them while I was onstage, but I knew that wasn’t enough. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m nothing more than a stranger, but I want you to know, you can talk to me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
I searched his eyes. “Why am I getting your attention?”
“I like you,” he said without hesitation. “There’s something about you that I can’t seem to get enough of.” He traced the edge of the pie with his spoon. “I attended your play just so I could hear more of your voice and see what you looked like when you were in your element.” He paused, and I felt something move into my throat. “I get the feeling you didn’t want to tell me about Roxbury and that you weren’t raised in a privileged life, like the majority of the kids at our school. The more you get to know me—and I hope you will—you’ll learn that I don’t give a shit about where you live or how much you have. I only care about what’s in that chest of yours—and I’m talking about your heart, nothing else. You’re one of the most intriguing and fascinating people I’ve ever met, Pearl. I’ll keep attending plays if I have to. I just don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
I smiled.
I couldn’t help it.
Beneath this gorgeous man was someone so kind and genuine.
And that terrified me the most because those were traits I didn’t see often, and they were ones I didn’t want to let go of even though I had to.
“I can tell you’re fighting something right now. Be honest with me—what is it?”
His ability to read me always came in fast and hard, taking ahold of my heart and shaking it.
“You’re asking for something that I’ve never given to anyone.”
“More of you, you mean?”
I nodded and brought the coffee up to my mouth, swallowing the warm liquid, hoping it would calm me. “I don’t want to portray that I’m completely innocent because I’m not. There have been guys; I just don’t let anything last. I know you’re going to ask why …” I glanced down, the boxes now close enough that they were rubbing against my skin. “Before I came to live with Gran, I was with Vanessa. That’s my mother.” The boxes were threatening to open; I didn’t want that, especially not tonight. “I saw what she went through with men.” I tried inhaling, and it was becoming so hard. “I won’t let that happen to me. I just want to get Gran out of Roxbury and into a nice place in either LA or New York and create a new life for us.”
He reached across the table, his hand surrounding mine. He held me with a strength that didn’t hurt, but one that made me stare into his eyes. “I’m nothing like them.” His thumb circled around and locked between two of my fingers. “I don’t want to distract you from your goals. I want to encourage you to reach them.”
I felt the tightness move into my throat as I whispered, “That’s what scares me the most.”