Alexis
“I asked for a salad, dressing on the side.” Debbie dropped her elbows on the table and tilted her head to me like I was slow. “It really isn’t that hard, Alexis.”
My hands curled into fists. How much fun it would be to plant one of them in the middle of her face. She had poured the dressing on herself. I had watched her.
Paige didn’t miss a beat, sweeping in with a new salad, sans dressing. I enjoyed this part because as often as Debbie taunted us, she had zero learning curve. Paige was exquisite and every boy at Debbie’s table thought so, including Mike. The green-eyed monster appeared on Debbie’s shoulder as Mike flirted outrageously with Paige.
I turned for the kitchen when the bell over the door jingled. Glancing over, my heart skipped a beat when Greyson walked into the diner heading to a booth in my section.
Paige joined me. “Who’s that?”
“That’s the guy from the jetty.”
“Ah. He is cute.”
He was so much more than cute and so distracted at the sight of him, I didn’t move. Frozen in place happily watching the boy who made me feel all kinds of crazy in the best possible way.
“You’re staring,” Paige whispered.
“Shit.”
She chuckled, “You’ve got it bad.”
I did and I hardly knew him. I took the opportunity, as I approached, to appreciate the muscles of his chest and arms accentuated by the black tee he wore. My body grew warm. I then saw the box of Pop-Tarts. My eyes narrowed. He was grinning.
“I brought dessert. Thought maybe you’d like to join me being such a lover of the Pop-Tart.”
His sense of humor made him even sexier. Still, I wasn’t confessing, no way in hell. I’d eat that whole damn box before I admitted he was what I wanted in my box.
“Do you know what you want?” He didn’t answer. I had pencil to paper waiting, but the pause was so pronounced I glanced up to find him staring at me. How I stayed upright when my bones turned to liquid I couldn’t say, but what a look. My voice was an octave too high when I asked, “Did you want something to eat or do you just want the toaster?”
His eyes warmed and my tummy quivered. “Cheeseburger, fries and a coke…please.”
Maybe I should mention I was on the menu. Then I remembered he could read minds so I quickly asked, “How do you want your burger cooked?”
“Medium.”
I loved his voice. I could listen to him talk all night, anything would do, even the instruction manual for the new gaming system Paige bought this past weekend.
I wrote his order down and turned to go, adding from over my shoulder, “Let me know when you want the toaster.”
“What time do you get off work?”
Looking back at him, I couldn’t read his expression but I liked it. “Nine.”
“There’s a full moon tonight. I was going to take a walk to the jetty later. Do you want to come?”
In my head I screamed yes while jumping up and down. To him, I said, “That sounds like fun.”
He responded with a smile that was slow to form, but magnificent when done.
Giant spiders could attack the diner or The Cure could walk through the door, but I’d be oblivious because that smile just made it to the top of my favorite things list. I wondered if he’d sketch that for me? I almost asked. I needed a chaperone around this boy because he did funny things to my body and my head. Time to abort before I did something stupid, like lick him like a lollipop. “I’ll go place this. It shouldn’t be longer than ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Alexis.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue, inflected with that sexy accent, caused goosebumps. Forming words was simply out of the question. I fled like I was on fire. In the kitchen, I gave thought to dunking my head in the cold dishwater.
Paige followed me. “The fireworks going off between the two of you, it was definitely not your imagination that first day.”
“I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me crazy.”
She rested her hip against the counter. “In a good way?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.”
“Not nice. I can’t control my thoughts when I’m around him. I’m…” I lowered my voice so Mel wouldn’t overhear, “Thinking about him naked, Paige.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s objectifying.”
“So.”
“And embarrassing.”
“He’s hot and you’re a teenager. I think about Grant naked all the time. Even right now.” A wicked look swept her face. She really was thinking about Grant naked. I couldn’t help the laugh.
“Stop it.”
She chuckled, “Relax, Alexis. You’re human.”
“And horny.”
“You’re a teenager, that’s a perpetual state. Welcome to the club.”
I tried for cool when I left the kitchen, but I kept looking over at Greyson’s table. I hoped I was being subtle, but I couldn’t help looking. He was here; he was waiting for me. My insides felt like a bottle of bubbly that had been shaken. He was sketching. I wondered what he was sketching because he hadn’t lifted his head from the paper.
At closing time, Paige offered to finish up for me. I pulled off my apron, washed my hands and went to join Greyson. Approaching his table, my heart pounded and I had chills of excitement racing down my arms because he had stayed for me. Had I been a cartoon there would be colored hearts drifting over my head. Reaching his table, I kind of stumbled a bit seeing what he’d been diligently working on. It was me. Studying the lines of my face, how he saw me, I was beautiful to him.
Speechless, I could only nod when he said, “Shall we?”
His bike was out front. Like we’d been doing it for years, he handed me the helmet. The bike roared to life. I held him like I had that first ride, as close as possible.
The moon was full providing enough light to see our way to the jetty. The ocean was calm tonight. We settled on the rocks.
“This is a great spot,” Greyson offered.
It was and even more so now with him. I wasn’t going to pry, but we were here. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Where did you come from?”
He chuckled, “Did my accent give it away?”
“Sorry, it’s just you’re a senior and you’re here. I’m curious.”
“Home is Ireland, a little place outside of Kerry. My grandfather has an artist friend who retired in San Francisco. We moved to the States so he could start managing me. He thinks I should be touring, has already contacted a few of his connections to sponsor shows for me at their galleries, but Grandfather wants me to finish my schooling. That’s why we settled here, far enough from San Francisco to keep me focused on school but close enough to make my agent’s work easier.”
Was it fate that put people in each other’s paths? Or was my fairy godmother trying to tell me something? They could have settled in any number of small towns along the West Coast and yet by chance he was dropped right into the middle of my world.
“It must feel good to not only know what you want to do with your life, but to know you’re good enough to do it.”
His expression softened in reply before he asked, “What about you? Is writing what you want to do?”
“Yes. I’ve been writing short stories for as long as I can remember, but I’d like to start a full-length novel.”
“Do you have a subject?”
Him. I didn’t say that though. “I’m working on it. My hope is to study creative writing at NYU.”
Surprised, he said, “That’s quite a hike.”
I shifted my focus to the horizon. “I like it here, but I’ve always felt drawn to New York City. I don’t know why, maybe because it is so far from home, something different.”
“I’ve never been to New York.”
“If your art ever takes you to the East Coast, look me up. I’ll give you a tour.” I was teasing, but not really. One day he’d been gone. Maybe we could give fate a little hand and get our paths to cross again.
“I’m going to take you up on that, Alexis.”
“I hope you do.”
I wished I knew what he was thinking; his expression was intense.
“I should probably get you home.” I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to stay right here with him, but we did have school in the morning.
He stood and reached for my hand. I didn’t know what it was about that moment, but it was one I knew I would remember always. The way he looked in the moonlight. His wide palm held out to me, the look of interest on his face that matched my own. I slipped my hand into his and knew with certainty that my life would never be the same.
“I don’t agree. McDonalds is infinitely better than Burger King.”
“Flame broiled, babe, all the way,” Greyson countered.
It was sixth period and we weren’t writing. We were learning about each other in the silliest way. “Let me guess, you’re a Pepsi fan too.”
Humor danced in his eyes. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
“Star Wars, hands down,” I said a little too emphatically.
“That we agree on.”
I sighed loudly. “Lucky, because I can’t be friends with someone who likes Captain Kirk over Luke Skywalker.”
Greyson was working in his spiral ring again. He’d been vague the last time I asked, it didn’t discourage me from asking again. “Is your portfolio mostly sketches or do you have paintings as well?”
His gaze lifted. “Mostly paintings. The sketches are for fun.”
“Do you have a preference…people, landscapes?”
“Usually landscapes in oil. I rarely paint people.”
He had sketched me. I wanted to preen like a peacock at the honor. “You mentioned your grandfather’s friend was lining up galleries to showcase your work. Do you have any idea what to expect?”
“Lots of touring. Living out of my suitcase, meeting more people than I’ll ever remember, trying to squeeze in painting while networking.”
“Will you come back here?”
“I’ll likely get an apartment in San Francisco and Grandfather will go home. He misses it.”
I didn’t know him; I liked who I was getting to know, but he really was just passing through.
“I have no illusions. It’s going to suck in the beginning, lots of hard work and socializing, something I’m not really good at, but it is necessary. You’ll have to do the same. Writing the book is only part of it, marketing and promoting, carving out a niche for yourself is just as important.”
He was right, but I didn’t want to talk about me. I wanted to know more about him. “Are your parents here too?”
His shoulders tensed and he stopped sketching. “No. They died a few years ago, a car accident.”
My heart broke. He had lost his parents too.
“Why do I have a feeling you can relate?” he asked.
“I was abandoned very young. I have foster parents and well, they aren’t really parents.”
“What do you mean?”
“They aren’t interested in parenting; they just want the check.”
His expression turned dark. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, but I have family. I’m good. I’m sorry about your parents.” He was old enough to remember them. That was a double-edged sword. He had memories of his parents, but he also knew them well enough to feel the loss of them.
“I try to remember the good times. Like my mom, she loved horses. Whenever she had free time, she was riding the moors. She taught me to ride when I was very little.”
I could see him on horseback. He’d be magnificent. “Do you still?”
“I haven’t since we arrived in the States, but back home I’d go out a few times a month.”
I wanted to see that; him on horseback, riding over his land, and was surprised at the sadness that washed over me knowing I never would.
He studied me for a second before a grin pulled at his mouth. “Ding Dongs or Twinkies?”
I was grateful for the subject change because I knew I was going to miss him when he was gone; how much was what worried me. “Twinkies.”