38. MORNING
PANDORA
Wow. Did I do a bang-up job getting fucked up or what? I destroyed myself last night, giving Leon a backstage pass to the show. I remember only bits and pieces from when I zigzagged out to the patio, most of those pieces involving rum-flavored stomach fluids I never want to taste again.
Exhausted, I watch as Leon dresses me on the bed. I don’t understand what he’s doing right now. He’s brought out the long, blue dress that slinks along my form without screaming “hawt,” and pushes my feet into the stiletto boots I bought yesterday. Then, he nudges me up into a sitting position and meets my tired gaze.
“I’m taking you out,” he says. No curse words spew from him at the moment—unlike last night. Why isn’t he pissed at me? I would’ve been.
“Sorry, Leon, I can’t. Seriously, I’m dying.”
I blink up at him. My eyeballs must be pink from the intense hangover. “I’m thirsty,” I whisper. Then, I gingerly lower myself to the mattress again, because my brain is imploding.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m wrapped in one of Leon’s black motorcycle jackets, with a black helmet plopped over my head and my arms tense around his waist. We’re winding up a hill, and out of the blue, the road widens into an exotic garden filled with bonsai trees and tiny ponds. In its midst, a sprawling, one-story Japanese restaurant beckons.
Before we left Smother, Leon slipped me some Advil for the headache, and now he helps me off the motorcycle and passes me another batch just in case. I swallow them dry.
“What are we doing here? It’s, like, ten a.m.,” I say.
He releases me from the helmet and studies his own fingers raking through my messy locks. “Eating breakfast.”
“Really? Are they open? There are no cars…” I trail off, admiring our surroundings.
Leon doesn’t respond right away but takes my hand and leads me through the red-lacquered front door. Discretely, I straighten my wrinkled dress. Inside, an enormous space with glass walls gives way to another, and beyond it, a third bright room welcomes sprinkles of sunshine from the glass-and-wood ceiling.
“My great grandfather on my mother’s side was Japanese. This place is my family’s way of honoring his legacy—and they don’t offer breakfast, which is why the kitchen staff prepping lunch are the only ones here.”
Trickling water surrounds us on all sides from the miniature waterfalls gushing down the walls and into the stone floor, where they snake through artificial channels in carp-infested rivulets.
Leon is at home here, and as always he knows exactly where he wants me. This time at a table one step up from the ground against the glass wall. The view is spectacular. The garden lends frothy greenery to my right, and artificial gullies slide into an indoor pond on my left.
While we wait for the food I won’t be keeping down, we sip green tea. I am feeling better, though. So much better that I’m unable to meet Leon’s gaze.
He’s so… normal. Softer, less guarded than I’m used to from him. I don’t believe in this new Leon who made his appearance at the mall yesterday and again this morning. I can’t help wondering if he’s trying to manipulate me. And why would he?
He doesn’t leave me to my own thoughts for long. Instead, he cuts to the chase in a low, smooth voice. “Pandora. You’ve been so distant over the last days. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“That pretty head of yours?” Geez Louise.
“Oh, I just feel like I shouldn’t have bum-rushed you. I’ve been living at your house as if I have a right to be there,” I say, and as I do, I blush with the realization that it’s true. How entitled am I? Despite myself, despite my doubts about Leon, there’s no denying how he opened his doors without a second thought. He’s been so generous with me.
Miso soup and steamed rice appear on the table between us, and it dawns on me why he brought me here; I’m starting to think I can stomach a Japanese breakfast.
“No, Pandora, don’t think that way. I enjoy your company very much. I’d like the opportunity to make you happy,” he states calmly.
The opportunity. He’s aware that I’m holding back. Good.
I sneak a glance at him. Now that I know about his heritage, I understand the subtle slope at the corners of his eyes, the faded tan skin color I’ve been marveling over.
“I’m sorry,” I start. He doesn’t look like a man ready to snap at any moment, so I take my chances. “You’ve been good to me, really, you have, but I can’t do this anymore.”
Leon’s face goes blank with the implications of what I’m saying. “Do what? Aren’t you hungry?” He’s buying time, and we both know it.
“No, Leon, I can’t keep… enacting a relationship we don’t have—”
“No-no. We do have a relationship. I’ve never been more hell-bent on what I want than with you.” His irises frost with determination.
“Leon, please.” A lump ferments in my throat, a pointless, redundant empathy for him.
He’s right, though. The time we’ve spent together equals months of regular dating. This has been nothing short of a relationship, even if it’s a messed-up one. As screwed up as we are. What an intense week.
He grabs a hold of me over the table, and I use my free hand to shield my eyes as if I’m watching the sun. He can’t scrutinize me this way.
“Leon, I’m honored.” I inhale, hesitating. It’s hard to form the words when he moves his head from side to side like he doesn’t want them.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “There are all kinds of relationships. Still—”
He guesses where I’m going. His headshake remains subtle, but it’s faster, more insistent. I’ve allowed my body to lie to the both of us, accepting and enjoying his advances.
Suddenly, the need to stop lying overwhelms me.
Suddenly, my stomach hurts from hiding the truth.
Leon can tolerate this rare blow to his ego, I rationalize. I draw in a breath, unable to wait a second longer, because I need to confess, tell him what’s killing me.
“No matter what I do, I think of him,” I manage. Then, I tip into ramblings. “Being with you makes me miss him even more, and I feel dirty for… Shit—I’m sorry! It’s not you. This just isn’t right.”
Leon is always strong, sure of himself. But now I look up and meet his gaze. It’s so light. It shimmers with a pain I’d never expect from him. He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingertips one by one.
“Our week isn’t over yet,” he says, smoothing over my outburst. “Give me one more night, Pandora. You won’t regret it.”
I’ve been on a one-week countdown waiting for my friends, for the beginning of a new year—heck, a new life! With the way he speaks, I wonder if he’s thought of this week as the opposite: quality time to spend with me. It would explain a lot.
Despite the hurt in Leon’s eyes, our confrontation could have been worse, I feel. So what if he’s got a tiny crush on me? There are plenty of girls salivating over him at the club. All he has to do is crook a finger, and they’ll come running to the rescue of his bruised ego.
“Leon, let’s be just friends, okay?” I say, my chest weightless with hope.
“Sugar,” he murmurs, a flicker of purpose passing through his eyes before his expression becomes a blank slate, “don’t blame me for trying.”
Half an hour later, I cling to Leon on the windy road down from the restaurant. I drag in fresh air through my nose, letting the roar of the motorcycle vibrate into my body.
Tonight, I’m not drinking. I’m starting my New Year’s resolution early. As we approach downtown Deepsilver, a gust of energy assails me as I consider the possibilities. A new year is meant to become just that—new. Fresh.
Ah, I’ll get my shit together. Ace my classes. Remain healthy and sober and never ever mess up. I won’t let Dominic’s love life interrupt our friendship again either, because I want to hear his voice, get used to speaking with him every day again. I’ll become worthy. Worthy of Dominic’s calls, texts—of his concern for me.
It’s Sunday, and downtown is unnaturally calm before the New Year’s parties begin. At the red light by the theater, Leon’s bike growls to a halt. Smother is a block and a half away, and I can’t wait to scrub my hangover off in the shower.
A small, olive-green car rumbles in the cross street to our left, blinker set in the direction we’re heading. The driver has a green light, but he’s not moving.
The color of the car reminds me of Dominic’s. My mouth steers upward as I recall our drives home from Smother. Once, I even informed him that the paint job brought out the green in his eyes.
I sense the driver’s focus on me. As I swing my head for a closer look, Leon shouts, “Hold on tight,” revs the engine, and does a U-turn on the red light.
I grab onto him, but my attention remains on the little car. For a moment, our sudden change in direction brings us closer.
It’s Dominic.
It is Dominic!
Dirty blond bangs tickle Dominic’s forehead. They’re longer than the last time he was in Deepsilver. Eyes I used to lose myself in widen and penetrate my visor, finding me—fixing me! My moan is drowned by the bike engine.
But then.
I can’t see him.
Leon and I blast through a back alley and up a side street to Smother. Instead of dropping me off up front, Leon pulls onto the patio. He bolts the gates behind us, and I unconsciously hug myself, my arms tightening around my midsection.
“You figured you’d take another way all of a sudden?” I ask.
“Yeah, the light took too long,” he replies but narrows his eyes at me. “Or are you insinuating something?” Before me, Leon morphs back to the controlling, no-bullshit man I know best. The one you don’t take any chances with. The one you obey without question.
“So it had nothing to do with Dominic sitting in his car at the traffic light?” I still venture.
Leon laughs a quiet laughter. “Pandora. I think you’re seeing things. The guy in the Corolla was not your little crush.”
I’m stunned at his dismissal. So stunned, I remain frozen in place while he stores away his motorcycle. Once he’s done, he swivels and entwines our fingers to walk me inside, but I tug my hand from his and stay where I am.
Leon’s eyes snap to me. He hasn’t lost his air of power and harnessed tension when he says, “I’m sorry if I came off blunt, Pandora. But if he were here—and interested—wouldn’t he have paid us a visit?”
My heart speeds up. Yes, Leon is making sense: everyone knows Smother is my second home. Once Dominic finds my apartment empty, he’ll come and find me… if he wants to.
What if he’s on his way to Smother?
Leon secures a hand on my hip when I begin to walk. “Christian texted me,” he says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He steers me toward the entrance of the club. “He’s picking up Shannon and your other friends at the airport. They’re coming straight here to be with you.”
Funny how such a short message can change everything. Alleviate the claustrophobia that set in the moment Leon bolted the patio gates closed behind us. Soon, goofy Mica, wise Destiny, and my astute Shannon will be here!
“Oh my God! Really? They’re on their way?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leon’s eyes sparkle with genuine delight now as he studies me. “And I hope to keep you this excited all night,” he adds quietly.