Chapter Eight

The parking lot of the Beach Shack was full of people. My gut tightened as she said her goodbyes. Russell shot me a few “I want to piss in your cornflakes” looks when Scarlett told him I’d be driving her home. He glared at me as he announced he’d walk home.

As excited as I was to spend more time with her, I did feel sorry for him. He cared about Scarlett. I shoved my hand in my pocket again when his embrace lasted a minute too long for comfort. She broke it, kissing him on the cheek and promising to call him before she left.

She acted surprised when I took the guitar case from her. But when I walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, Scarlett looked downright confused.

“Aren’t you driving?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you getting in the passenger seat?”

“I’m not.”

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Then why—”

“Scarlett, has no man ever held the door open for you?”

“Not really,” she replied, biting her lower lip.

I gestured her to sit. “Please.”

“Nice ride,” she said, running her fingers over the Stang’s dashboard.

“Thanks.”

It was a short drive, the distance not enough to cover even one song on the local island radio. I hoped her place would be familiar, but it wasn’t.

And this was a house I’d remember with its shabby couches covered with old blankets, orange shag carpeting, and large box television complete with antennas. The place looked as if it had landed here from a previous decade, but I liked it. She was in the cracks and crevices of this place.

“Want something to drink?” she asked as she peered behind the couch.

“I’m fine, thanks. Where are your parents?” I asked, noticing the large photo in the living room of a woman who resembled Scarlett, except she wore more layers of makeup and a hardness lurked in her eyes.

“Well, my daddy went to buy a pack of smokes in the city, but that was eight years ago. So, either he has a very hard-to-find brand or he got very lost.” Although her statement was sad, her tone was not.

I chuckled. “Wow, Texas, you made me feel sorry for you and laugh a little at the same time.”

She stopped looking under the couch and stood up, smiling brightly, giving me a curtsy. “I have that talent.”

“And your mom?”

It wouldn’t have been obvious if I wasn’t staring at her face so intently, but her mouth tightened, and her smile lost its glow. “She’s with her boyfriend. He lives on the mainland, so she’s gone a lot.” She gestured around the small living room. “This is just a storage space for all her forgotten stuff.”

I had a feeling Scarlett counted herself among those items.

“She’s not coming back to see you off?” As soon as I mentioned it, the dread set in. We only had one night together. It didn’t seem fair, but what could I do? If I told her the truth, which I couldn’t even explain myself, it would just scare her away. Hell, it scared the fuck out of me.

She looked in the tiny kitchen. “She’ll be here in the morning to drive me to the bus station.”

“What are you looking for?”

Out of nowhere, a ball of fur shot through the air and landed right in her arms. “There you are,” she cooed to it. She held up the giant furball to me. “New York, meet Septimus Warren Smith, my kitty.” Kitty? It looked like a large rat with its gray fur and black eyes.

“Cute,” I said, feeling the large rodent’s glare. I went to pet it. It reciprocated with a hiss, batting my hand away.

“He has trouble making friends. He used to be feral.”

“Are you sure he still isn’t?”

“Don’t worry, he’s had all his shots. He’s a good kitty, right, Mr. Septimus?” The cat licked her face in reply. She walked over to the small kitchenette, taking a treat out of a cookie jar. “Go play,” she said, putting the cat down.

“Where did you find him?”

“In a dark alley, but I swear he’s not an asshole,” she said, referencing my comment earlier.

“Well, at least he likes you.”

“He loves me. I just hope he can stand the long bus ride.”

“He’s going with you?”

“Of course, he’s my family, and I don’t abandon family. We’re a package deal.”

I decided right then that I’d learn to love Septimus…or at least tolerate him.

“Any special reason your cat is named after a Virginia Woolf character?”

She smiled, petting the feline. I could hear the purr from the other side of the room. “You’ve read Mrs. Dalloway?”

“Yeah, I’m assuming you have, too.”

“It took me forever, but I finally finished it. I was reading it when I found him. He reminded me of Septimus, I guess.” She stood and walked over to me. We stared at each other. Her mouth parted, and I struggled not to pull her in for another kiss. I wanted to feel the weight of her in my arms and taste the flavor of her mouth again. But I wasn’t sure if she wanted that. At least not yet. And I had so many questions.

“Well, if the singing doesn’t work out, you can always try entering ugly cat contests. You’d make a killing.”

“Hey, that’s not nice. He can hear you.” She playfully punched me on the arm. “You should apologize.”

I gestured to the recliner where he’d taken residence. “Maybe later. He looks like he’s busy licking his balls right now.”

“Oh, guess he is. We should give him some privacy. Want to see my room?”

She didn’t wait for my response. She started walking, and I followed. I had to duck to get through the doorway of her room.

A blue suitcase, covered in those feel-good bumper stickers, stood in one corner of the room, mocking me.

“Dreams are meant to be chased,” one said in bright rainbow lettering. Don’t I know it.

A duffle bag lay open on her bed. At least a half-dozen tubes of lip balm were in an open canvas bag on top of the clothes and magazines. She moved the duffle onto the floor.

She gestured for me to sit, but I walked around the room instead. There were chili pepper lights around her windows. She turned them on. The ceiling, covered by illuminated plastic stars, created a small glow, casting shadows of light and dark throughout the space. A single large bookcase was lined with records and a few books. Scattered throughout were a few photos. There was none of Vance, but several of Russell, her, and another boy at various ages. I saw her at ten, twelve, fifteen, looking the same as she did in my dreams.

A picture in a bright orange plastic frame caught my eye. She wore a pink turtleneck with red hearts all over it. Her dimply smile made even more prominent by the mouthful of metal. A ponytail on each side of her head contained all the symmetry of a Picasso painting…adorable.

She took the frame from me. I thought she’d stuff it into a drawer, but instead, she carefully wrapped it in newspaper and placed it inside her duffle bag between some clothes. “That’s the worse picture, but I kind of love it. It was my awkward stage.”

“I think you look beautiful, but why take it if you think it’s a bad picture?”

She shrugged and looked down. I tilted her chin until we were at eye level. “C’mon, you have a reason.”

“I went through a lot when I was younger. It reminds me of where I was and where I am. Even then, when everything was falling apart, I could still smile. That was my superpower.” She stepped away from me, her mouth slightly open. “I can’t believe I told you that. Man, I didn’t have that much to drink, but—”

“I’m happy you told me. We don’t need to put on any acts tonight. We can be free and honest.”

She quirked her brow. “That sounds dangerous. I just met you.”

She’d found a few root beers in the fridge. I drank and watched as she wrapped up a few more picture frames. “I’m sorry. I just feel if I don’t do this, I might forget tomorrow.”

“Can I help?”

“No, I’m almost done.” She held up two photo frames of her, Russ, and another boy. One showed them at a young age in swimming gear on the beach. She looked so cute with her pink snorkel. In another one, they were older and dressed up. Scarlett wore a red dress and had a corsage on her wrist. Russ and the other boy flanked her. She pursed her lips and looked between the photos as if trying to decide which one to take. In the end, she carefully wrapped both frames up and put them in her duffle bag.

“You and Russell have been friends for a long time.”

“Is that a question?” She zipped up her bag.

“Just an observation.”

“We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” Poor Russell—bro-zoned and broken-hearted.

She bounced on the bed and patted the area next to her. To my surprise, she jumped on my lap, straddling me as soon as I sat. She threw her arms around me and kissed me firmly. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. It was unapologetic, and I welcomed it with every cell in my body. From the moment her soft lips touched mine, I was on fire for her. The dreams were great, but nothing buzzed life into my blood like the feel of her.

She forced my mouth open with hers, rolling her tongue against mine. I slid her hair away from her face and trailed my mouth down her jawline and throat. Her skin was warm and tasted sweet like vanilla. She squirmed against me. I struggled to stay in control. Her fingers found their way to my shirt. My dick hardened with every button she released. Why the fuck did I wear a buttoned shirt?

I fought hard not to pick her up and throw her onto her back. I wanted to fuck her hard and fast. Then I wanted to pleasure every inch of her. I was so hungry for her. No…not hungry. Starved was a better word.

She stopped, backing up slightly so a small gap existed between us.

“Scarlett?”

She pushed me away and took a strand of her own hair, braiding it in a matter of seconds. Damn…how did her fingers work so fast? “Before we go any further, I want you to know something about me.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t normally bring random guys home. I’ve never done this. I just felt something with you.”

I didn’t like being referred to as a random guy, but I cracked a smile at her admission. “Are you seriously doing the whole ‘I just met you and I’m going to fuck you, but I promise I don’t usually do this?’”

Anxiety flickered across her face.

I tilted her chin so I could look upon those pale blue eyes once more. “You don’t have to tell me. Everything you said I figured out on my own.”

“I guess it is a very cheesy thing to say.”

“I love that you said it.”

“Why?”

“Because I do usually do this. I’ve never had a relationship, not even that whole elementary school pretend thing. I’m very honest about it. If there is such a thing as a gentleman man-whore, I’d like to think that would be me.”

She peered closer to me. “You don’t have to have this conversation with me, either.”

“I don’t?”

“I’m not an idiot. I get that this is a one-night stand. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’m not the kind of girl who’s imagining how our future children might look or how you’ll pop the question or if I should make you pancakes or French toast for breakfast. I’m good with what this is.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Her speech was the exact thing I always wanted from a woman. A firm commitment that she wasn’t expecting a…commitment.

But her words knifed through my gut.

“That’s the thing, you’re different to me.” I winced, realizing how that sounded. Thankfully, she didn’t laugh. “And for the record, I like pancakes best.”

She laughed. “I don’t have the stuff to make batter, but I do have three kinds of cereal.”

“Well, that is something.” I rub my hand down her leg. “Look, Scarlett, if we only have one night together, I don’t want you to remember me as the dude you slept with before you left for Nashville.”

“How should I remember you?”

I shrugged because there were too many awkward wrong turns in answering that question. “How about if I was the guy you had a kick-ass conversation with? One you’ll think about every once in a while? And when he does happen to cross your mind, it’s a memory that makes you smile.”

She stared at me, blinking disbelief. “Seriously, are you trying to tell me that in the—” she glanced at her watch. “—three and a half hours you’ve known me, I’ve cured you of all your man-whore ways?”

“That’s a fair and honest statement.”

She sighed, the breath blowing her bangs up. “Yay me.”

I would have laughed, but my dick was busy telling me off. “I just want something more with you.”

“I’m not sure if I should feel special or rejected right now. Are you playing hard to get?”

I swallowed, not sure how to explain any of this. “You’re so fucking beautiful. You have no idea how much I want you. In fact, there’s an epic battle of wills between my hypothalamus and my hard-on right now. So don’t make this harder than it is. And yeah, pun intended.”

She let out a deep breath, kissed my forehead, and nodded in agreement. “I guess when you put it like that, I have no choice but to pick a side.” She shifted on my lap—her body slightly trembling. That shiver shot straight through me.

“Speaking of hard, I have a little situation going on, and it would make this a lot easier if we had some distance.”

She walked to the door, opening it. The cat ran right into the room. “I guess he can be in here since we don’t need privacy. Do you really want to invest time in getting to know each other if this is our only night?”

Even if she didn’t dream about me, I wanted some clues, some clarity. If we had sex, it would be over, and she might ask me to leave. Sex only lasted so long, even for me.

A conversation could go on forever. I could replay it in my mind every night. A conversation meant possibility. “I think it’s a risky short-term investment, but odds are it’ll pay out.”

Even if we did have chemistry, I couldn’t exactly go with her. Asking someone I just met if I could relocate with them to another state advanced me to stalker expert. I had to be careful with Scarlett. If I wasn’t, she’d push me away.

She lay on the bed. I followed suit, keeping a distance between us, facing her. The cat filled the gap in the middle, stretching out its body, purring against her. Clearly, he was putting me on notice, but I was grateful for the physical barrier.

Although it was everything in me not to move him so I could feel her leaning into me again.

“Do you think we can talk all night, or will you be too tired?”

She looked at her watch so quickly I didn’t think she checked the time but rather used it as a measure of affirmation. “I can sleep on the bus.”

Scarlett sat up, jabbing a finger against my chest. “But you have to leave before my mom gets here. I mean, she probably wouldn’t say anything, but it’s hard to explain the hotter than Hades naked boy in bed with me.”

I grinned like an idiot. “Hotter than Hades, eh?”

She shrugged. “Call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“Then you got it wrong, sunshine, ‘cause I’m not naked.”

She smiled. “Yet.”

I laughed, but my fingers twitched. I wanted to touch every inch of her creamy smooth skin. “You’re not playing fair.”

She sighed, crashing back on the mattress. “I don’t get what I want very often, but I really want you. So yeah, fuck fair.”

I sucked in a deep breath, trying hard not to smile like a total ass that the energy between us was a two-way spark, one that would ignite with very little tinder.

“Scarlett—”

“What do you want to talk about, New York?”

“How about you?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Too broad. Ask me a question and I’ll answer it honestly.”

“Anything?”

“I’m never going to see you again, so why not?”

“Then I want to ask the thing you told me not to ask. How did you end up with that douche bag?” Talking about him would surely make my dick soft.

“You really want the details?”

“Did he have something to do with this?” I pulled the strap of her shirt off her shoulder and gently fingered the bruise there. Her body went rigid. The cat looked ready to claw me, but then he stopped and stared at her shoulder. Clearly, we were both having the same murderous thoughts.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m doing my best not to think about it, but it’s driving me crazy. What did he do to you?”

She pulled the strap back up and pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. It fell right back where it was. Her mouth tightened. “I don’t want to talk about this. Why are you bringing it up?”

“Because my mind is going to some very dark places and I need you to shed light before I lose it.” I wanted to kill him, but I kept that to myself.

She swallowed. “Why do you care?”

“One question at a time.”

She grew quiet, pursing her lips and twisting her hair. “This is hard for me, because no matter what I say, I will sound like a weak girl who put herself in a bad situation.”

“I won’t judge.”

“You don’t understand. I am not that girl. I’m strong.”

“I believe it. I just want to know the story. If…if you trust me.”

She was quiet for a moment. I was about to change the topic when she spoke. “I met Vance when I was sixteen. He credits me with saving his life.”

“How did you do that?”

“Not literally but in a figurative way. He was on drugs…meth. He said that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have gotten clean.”

“How did you even meet him? He looks older than you.”

“Only two years older. Drugs have a way of aging you. We worked together. Part of his probation was to get a job. Your Aunt Rose was the only one who’d hire him. We bonded over dirty dishes and chicken strips. I thought he was a good guy.

“Hell, to be honest, I thought I loved him, but the more time I spent with him, I realized he just traded one obsession for another. He never laid a hand on me, but he was very controlling during our relationship. It took me a while to figure that out, but I did. I broke up with him six months ago.”

The armor she wore disintegrated bit by bit. She braided a strand of her hair, her fingers working fast until just a long neat knot appeared. “There is a difference between being needed and being loved. It took me a long time to get that. He needed me, and I liked it. So much so that I lost myself for a while.

“But I found myself. And it’s over and that’s that.”

I struggled not to take her in my arms and heal whatever hurt existed inside her, but that lower lip stopped shaking and curved into a slow smile. “That’s it.”

“That’s not weakness, Scarlett. You’re empathetic. That makes you pretty special in my book. But you still haven’t told me how you got this.” I rubbed the discolored mark on her shoulder. She didn’t strain away this time but relaxed as my fingers kneaded her.

“When he found out I was leaving for Nashville, Vance came here. He’d believed we’d get back together for some weird reason, even though I never gave him any false hope. I told him to get out. He refused, so I called the police. Anyway, he threw something at me when I walked away from him.”

“What?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “His fist.”

He fucking hit her!

Minutes passed between us. Something crumbled inside me. Why didn’t I beat that asshole up when I had the chance?

Because you didn’t want her to think you’re some kind of violent idiot.

I left that guy behind in New York.

Crazy what a few days away from bad habits could do for a guy.

“Stop,” she whispered, ending my quiet struggle. She sat up and took my clenched hand, prying them loose one finger at a time. “You don’t have to freak out. I’m not some helpless girl. He punched me in the shoulder, and I turned around and kneed him in the groin hard enough that his future grandchildren will know who I am.”

“You’re kidding.” But even as I said it, I could imagine her doing it.

“Nope, like I said, I’m not the kind of girl who lets a man put his hands on her. I didn’t need you tonight. I could have taken care of it by myself. But you seemed so determined to be chivalrous.”

I wanted to hug her, but I settled for stroking her hair. “What if he is that kind of guy?”

“What kind?”

“The kind that follows a girl to Nashville with nothing but harm in his heart?”

She shocked me by laughing. “New York, you watch too many movies. That stuff makes for good drama, but in real life, people are bums. He’s not going to come after me. Hell, I’m surprised he got his lazy ass on the ferry to come out tonight. Besides, like I said, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

She moved my hands and laid back down. “I already wasted four years. I won’t spend another minute discussing my mistakes.”

I wanted to probe more, but the way she looked at me, silently begging me to drop the subject, swept the thoughts like crumbs under a rug…out of sight but always there. Laying back down, I cracked my knuckles, keeping my hands busy. The cat, who had somehow scrambled off the bed, moved back, taking residence as our evening chaperone. “As you wish.”

“What’s your story? Are you just visiting Rose?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you think of Serenity so far?”

I shrugged. “I love the beach, but there’s not much else.”

“Yeah, it’s tiny.”

I didn’t want to talk about me. I craved information about her. Besides, most of my stories were warped. “Have you always wanted to do this? Go to Nashville and be a star?”

“I’m a good singer.”

“You’re an amazing singer.”

“So it makes sense.” She said it with an inflection like a question. It wasn’t a full answer.

“Okay, sure.”

“I know. I know. I sound wishy-washy.”

“You don’t have to be certain of anything right now. That’s the one good thing about being young. We can make mistakes.”

“The truth is I’m not sure what I want. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had a lot of lost years, and it’s time to go searching for something bigger than me. This is my way of doing that.”

“Did you ever think of a more traditional path? Like college?”

“Sure…once.”

“And?”

“College wasn’t in the cards for me. I have Dyslexia.”

“But you have so many books. You read Virginia Woolf.”

She narrowed her eyes, making it clear I’d yanked a nerve.

“People with Dyslexia can read. It’s just more difficult. I love to read. It takes me a lot longer than the average person. Sometimes, I have to reread a paragraph four times before I understand it, but I’m not illiterate or stupid.”

I leaned on my elbow, bringing my face close to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m being dumb.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why I snapped. I get defensive sometimes.”

“I understand. I shouldn’t have assumed. It was a dick move.”

She laughed. “What about you? Tell me something?”

“What do you want to know?”

She sat up, resting on her elbows, her long legs bent behind her. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me.”

She punched my arm. “I mean in Serenity.”

“I told you. I’m visiting my aunt.”

“It’s April. You seem like the college type, preppy. Why aren’t you in school?”

I winced. “That’s a stupid story.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to be vulnerable and just passively give you all the fucked-up shit in my life, but you won’t do the same? There is a story here. Spill it.”

“Wow, you’re some detective.”

She blew on her nails. “Just call me Lisbeth Salander, the girl with the butterfly tattoo.”

“She was more of a hacker.”

“She was a badass in all ways.”

I nodded in agreement then remembered what she’d said. My curiosity imagined all the places on her body where a tat might live. “So you have ink? Where?”

She leaned close to me. “Focus. Tell me what happened.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ll settle for the spark notes.”

Her determined look told me she wasn’t going to relent. “I was in school, but I got kicked out.”

She waved her hand as if asking me to go on. How’d we get here? Telling her about my past mistakes wasn’t exactly going to make her trust me.

“I applied for this fraternity.”

“You are preppy, but you don’t seem like the frat type.”

“Yeah, they didn’t think so, either, but, um…it was my father’s fraternity. He was a legacy. I wanted to surprise him. You see, I’ve disappointed him a lot. The frat told me I was in cause of my dad. At the end of the rush week, they had this party. It was a rager. Seemed like the entire student body showed up. And our sister sorority was also performing their final rush ritual, which, as it turns out, was a strip-tease contest.”

I paused to take in her expression. She didn’t seem shocked, but she did look disappointed.

“I’m not gonna lie. That sounds kinda toxic, New York.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Hey, I’m not proud, but if a girl wants to strip, then who am I to stop her? Woman empowerment means choices and freedom.”

She held up her hand. “Dude, you’re not running for office here. I get it. The girls wanted to be there. They wanted to strip.”

“Well, that’s the thing. Not all of them did. The first three girls seemed really into it, but the fourth girl wasn’t. Her name was Maisie. I recognized her from Calc II. It was obvious she didn’t want to be there. Everyone started chanting, ‘Take it off. Take it off.’” The words bashed around my head. “God, Scarlett, I even said it until I got a hold of myself. It became a mob scene so quickly, and I almost got swept away in it. I feel so shitty about that. But by then, it was too late anyway.”

“What happened?”

I swallowed, not wanting to remember that cold, dark night. “My frat brother threw a beer at her. Other people stormed the stage. Someone ripped off her shirt.”

Scarlett’s hand formed a fist. She was still, but emotion radiated all around her, like the silence before a storm.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”

She shook her head. “Finish the story. What happened? What did you do?”

Thank God the last question didn’t come out as an accusation. Unlike my father and Colleen, she wasn’t jumping to conclusions.

“I pushed through all the people and jumped up on the stage. I hit the guy who ripped her shirt. I gave her my jacket. Her friends came and got her out. I apologized to her, but I don’t think she heard me. I don’t remember much after that, except that we all started brawling. It was like everyone in that room against me. Well, at least five guys I know of, but others got in their kicks and punches, too. I spent a few weeks in the hospital with a severe concussion, more than my fair share of bruises, and broken ribs.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little when I twist my torso a strange way. But I’m on the mend.”

“When are you going back to school?” She gripped my shoulder.

“I got kicked out, Scarlett. Because of the fight.”

Her grip tightened. “But you were defending her, and you got hurt for it.”

“Every one of those five guys had injuries, too. It wasn’t one-sided. No one in the frat was coming to my defense, and they all claimed I started the fight. Which I guess I did.”

“But the girl…Maisie. She could have testified.”

I loved how she wanted to advocate for me. Anna had said something similar. “I didn’t want her to. I figured if she wanted to come forward, she could. She didn’t, and I wasn’t going to ask her. Asking her would mean she’d have to say what happened that night. What the frat did to her. I didn’t want to make that decision for her. By the time I’d healed, I’d missed so much school it didn’t seem to matter. I never really thought I belonged there anyway.”

“Where do you belong?”

Wherever you are. Instead of responding directly, I just shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”

“So, you’re just a drifter.”

“Something like that.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said when she’d been quiet for a while. At least she’d unclenched her fingers.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you jump in when no one else did?”

I was almost going to say it was the right thing to do, but that wasn’t exactly right. “I just thought what if that was my sister up there? And no one was helping her?”

“You’re okay, New York.”

“You’re not bad, either.”

The small house shook with wind, followed by the fierce, noisy splatter of rain. She shivered again, rubbing her arms. “We’re in for a storm. I feel it in my bones”

“What are you, like, sixty? Only old people say stuff like that.”

She poked me in the chest. “Like you don’t sound strange talking about your fucking hypothalamus.”

God, this girl made me laugh. “You don’t like storms?”

She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers. “I love the rain, but I can do without its dumbass drinking buddies, thunder and lightning. This house is creepy enough, but a good storm makes all the ghosts come out.” She chewed on her lower lip, causing the nice warm simmer between us to boil over again. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“They’re real.”

“You say that as if you know.”

“I do. I’ve seen one with my own eyes.”

She inched closer to me, her face bright with excitement. “You have a ghost story for me?”

“Nah, don’t want to freak you out.”

She leaned forward. Her shirt dropped a few inches, exposing more flesh and some beautiful cleavage. “Oh, come on. I really want to hear your run in with the other realm.”

Lifting my head before she caught me staring, I tried to focus on her eyes.

I shifted, staring at her pretty mouth. Big mistake. Her bottom lip jutted out. I’m not sure when, but she must have applied fresh gloss. I wanted to lick it all off. I lowered my head a little more, focusing on her collarbone, an area I’d never been interested in, but Scarlett’s clavicle was a work of art.

“Hey, you still with me?” she asked.

I lay back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. That was safer. The masochist in me could finally focus. “Sorry.”

“How about that story, mister?”

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t laugh.”

She shook out her arms as if this motion was somehow going to prepare her not to laugh. Or maybe she was dealing with her own temptations in keeping her hands off me? “I’ll do my best.”

I cleared my throat. “I was only five and going to see Santa. Now, you have to picture Manhattan at Christmas.” I held my hands up in a square like a television set for her. She actually looked inside. “It’s loud, colorful, exciting, and smothering at the same time. People…so many people, crowding in so you don’t even feel the wind anymore.

“My sister, Anna, held my hand. My dad was somewhere, too, probably talking on his cell, making money when we should have been making memories. We stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The big department store with all the brightly lit Christmas trees was across the way.

“The light was so long, and I was anxious. I saw Santa walking in, led by a precession of elves. He waved and shook hands with all the kids. A line formed behind him, winding down the street and around the corner.

“I freaked. I had something very important to ask him for, and the line would take all day. My father said something to that effect. It wouldn’t be long before he started making excuses about leaving. I couldn’t let that happen. So I dropped Anna’s hand and darted into the street.”

She gasped, cupping her mouth. “What happened?”

“I didn’t get far. A ghost stopped me. It floated toward me, all white and billowy. It smelled sweet, too. Time stopped.” I paused, thinking that scent was so familiar. Something I’d come across, but my brain wouldn’t quite latch onto the source.

“Ghosts smell sweet?”

I nodded. “This one did. It kicked me in the stomach so hard I flew into the air and landed on my ass back on the crosswalk.”

“Maybe you tripped?” she offered.

“Tripped and fell back? Nope, this was definitely ghost. I couldn’t even breathe for a minute, and I had a red welt across my chest to prove it.”

“What did your family say?”

“They didn’t see anything. The ghost disappeared…disintegrated into the air. They thought I hurt myself playing, but I know what I saw. It scared the hell out of me. I actually pissed my pants. I had nightmares for months.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, the laughter threatening to bubble out of her. “Seriously?”

I faked a hurt look. “You think that’s funny? I’m bearing my soul to you, and you’re laughing your ass off after you promised you wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“It was.” I bumped her shoulder to let her know I was teasing.

“What were you going to ask him for?”

“Who?”

“Santa. You said you had something important to ask him.”

I’d never told the story to anyone, and now I remembered why. “I wanted him to bring my mom back. We needed her more than Heaven did.”

She looked so concerned I offered her a smile to lighten the mood. Gently nudging the cat off the bed, she shifted closer to me. “She died?”

Although we were fully clothed, I’d never felt so naked in my life. “It’s stupid. I didn’t even know her. I came into the world about the same time she left it. I just thought if she were back, maybe my dad would be different. Maybe we’d be a family.” I played with the button on my cuff. “God, I sound pathetic.”

She didn’t laugh at the joke. She did something I wasn’t expecting. She climbed on top of me and laid her head on my chest. Her arms and legs curled around me. My hands embraced her back. A hug…but that seemed too simplistic for what this was. It was like a transference of pain. My heartbeat changed as it blended with hers. Something shifted inside me.

“Does this hurt?” she asked.

“No. This…this is perfect.”

The rhythm of my heart had always felt loud. As a young kid, I thought everyone could hear their heart all the time like I could, but then I found out that wasn’t true. The beats didn’t even have the right timing. They were just sharp, disjointed, chaotic noises.

The doctors all said my heartbeat was normal, though, so I accepted that I must have had superhero hearing. As I lay in her arms, the restlessness in my body stopped. My heart finally had a rhythm.

My serenity.

“Just because you never knew her doesn’t mean you didn’t love her or that she didn’t love you,” she said.

I tilted her head, staring at the Sea of Tranquility within her eyes.

Are you a dream? I wanted to sleep forever in her arms, laying on pink bed sheets, in this creaky old trailer. We could weather the any storm like this.

A snap of lightning sliced through the chaos happening in my head. She shivered. The cat screeched, jolting on top of us. He hissed and clawed my leg before jumping off as if I was personally responsible for the weather.

“Ouch.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Let me get some cream for that.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t move. I’m fine.”

She rested her head against my chest. Her hair spilled out over me. I breathed in the scent of strawberries and peppermint. “Okay.”

“Do you have any stories like that?”

She looked at me, pressing her chin against my chest, a sly smile on her pouty lips. “Any stories where I pissed my pants? No, can’t say I do.”

I tickled her rib cage, rolling us over. I would regret this. Her giggles made me hard all over again, and I fought against the urge to hear one of her moans. “Funny, smart-ass. You owe me a ghost story. Go.”

“I don’t have any ghost stories.”

My fingers paused. “Then tell me something that scares you so we’re even.”

“Santa Claus.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I swear it’s true.”

My eyes blinked in disbelief. “Santa. Not axe murders, serial killers, or clowns?”

“Oh no, those things are scary, too, but you said one thing. This is in keeping with the theme of your story.”

I moved off her, crossed my arms under my head, and laid on my back. “What about St. Nick freaks you out, Texas?”

“You can’t laugh.” She bit her bottom lip. I struggled because I wanted to bite it, too.

“Okay.”

“Do better than that.” She held out her pinky to me. I curled mine around hers.

“Get on with the story.” God, I wanted to taste her again. Taste her everywhere.

“Okay, so I was six or seven. Before my father left for that one-of-a-kind brand of smokes, he decided to take us to visit my grandparents for the holidays. As usual, my mom was pissed at him. She complained the whole way that we should’ve gone to her relatives. It was constant griping about the car being too hot and that he needed to find a job.

“She brought up his promise to take me to see Santa. It was her way of guilting him. We were on some back road when he pulled over at this small hole in the wall country store. The kind that sells homemade jams and ammunition. Oh, and, of course, cigarettes.

“It must have been fate because there was a sign announcing Santa would be there. My dad gave my mom one of those ‘I planned this all along’ looks. Random, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Anyway, we had to wait since Santa was running late. My mom complained about that, too, but she lightened up when my dad told her to buy something nice for herself. After an hour, Santa finally showed up.”

“And he turned out to be an old creepy guy?”

She grinned, undoing the last braid she’d made. She combed her fingers through the strands. “No, he was wonderful. He had a real beard and everything. Since I was the only kid in the place, I got to spend a lot of time with him. He listened while I rattled on about all the dumb stuff I wanted. He even asked me questions.”

“Then why are you afraid of him?”

“That didn’t happen until later. When we finally left, I saw this huge shiny red pick-up in the parking lot. The front was decorated with garland. The words ‘Santa’s Sleigh’ was painted on the side. My father got some dad feelings and said, ‘Look Scar, that right there is Santa’s truck.’” She made a hand gesture imitating the scene. “I asked him why Santa didn’t have his real sleigh.”

“Dad said it was because his sleigh could only be used on Christmas Eve. When he was doing normal Santa stuff, he used the truck. I got really excited and thought my present might be in the back. That made total sense, right?”

“It kind of does.”

“Well, before my dad could stop me, I ran around and jumped on the tailgate. I lifted the blue tarp covering the truck bed and stuck my head inside.” She shivered, the goose bumps on her arms visible. “I’ve never been the same since.”

I tensed with her narration. “What the hell was in there?” I rubbed her arms. My head ran through a montage of horror films, each image worse than the last.

“The bloody corpse of a ten-point buck.”

If I’d been drinking something, I would have choked. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish. Turns out Santa was a hunter. The reason he ran so late was because he’d had himself a nice kill. The whole trip home, I screamed, ‘Santa shot Dancer. Santa killed Dancer. Dancer is dead.’ I have no clue why I thought it was Dancer and not one of the other reindeer. But ever since then, Santa freaks me out. I even stopped leaving cookies out after that.”

I started laughing.

“Hey, you pinky promised,” she said, but she’d started laughing, too. Soon we were both cracking up.

“Good story, Texas.”

“Thank you.”

I traced her lips. She had gorgeous lips. They tasted as good as they looked. She parted her mouth and moved closer to me.

The rain came down harder, all of a sudden, as if the whole sky had opened in some type of cosmic warning. We both sighed at the same time and laid on our backs taking in the sound. It rattled the entire house. Lightning cracked, emanating the scent of ozone in the air, electrifying the sparks and tingles present between us. We both lay on our backs staring at the hundreds of lit up stars on her ceiling. Did she look at them with a sense of adventure for the new? Or did she see the blank space between them and concentrate on those missing pieces?

Our hands found each other. She started humming a familiar tune. One I’d searched for on Spotify many times. It felt as if a needle punctured my spine, I got up so fast. “What song is that?”

“It’s ‘Here comes the Rain’ by The Eurythmics. It’s an old song but one of my favorites. Do you know it?”

“I hear it all the time.”

“I hate when a song gets stuck in my head, too.”

“Yeah, that does mess with a person.” She misunderstood, but then again, how could I give her an explanation without sounding deranged? It was the chorus of my dream soundtrack.

“You know the best cure for that?” she asked, her eyes glowing.

“What?”

“Listen to it, all the time, until you get it out of your system.” She walked to the bookshelf. The archaic-looking stereo buzzed to life.

The cat appeared out of nowhere as cats did. He circled the bed a few times and growled at me before settling in the vacant spot Scarlett had left. I thought of petting him. Then I thought better of it. This kitty had some serious street cred, and I wasn’t about to get scratched up. I focused on Scarlett. She closed her eyes, undulating her hips, swaying to the music. The cheap plastic glow in the dark stars on the ceiling casted a spotlight on her, shining down on her long, sunset-colored hair. I leaned back on my elbows. The cat and I watched her.

He with disinterested curiosity, an expression only cats could muster. Me with awestruck fascination. Under the rhythm of her laughter, all my logical choices evaporated. I tried to be good, but her dancing to this song—a man was only so strong.

The rain pelted harder, followed by a hot flash of lightning bathing the room in brilliant white light for a few brief seconds. It was as if the very sky was trying to warn me not to give into my weakness. It didn’t matter, though. The addict instinct inside me could no longer ignore the greedy needs of my body.

I surrendered.