No Tomorrow

“I think I’m going to stay here.”

His answer only heightens the state of confusion I’m already in.

“Stay here?” I repeat. “As in live here?”

“I don’t live anywhere, Piper. But I could sleep here instead of under the bridge. It’ll keep me out of the rain and wind.”

I blink, overwhelmed with the wave of facts that keep getting buried under the feelings I have for him. He’s homeless. And he’s honestly serious about moving into an old toolshed in the yard of an abandoned house. There’s no apartment hunting with this guy. Nope. He’s going to live in this dirty shed. Whether he considers it living here or not, that’s what this boils down to.

“And we’d have a place to hang out together and be alone,” he adds, squeezing my hand so tight his metal rings dig into my fingers.

I sway a bit as my gut lurches with a new realization. This place, this shed, will ultimately become a love nest if I want to continue to see him.

There will be no couch or bed.

No TV and VCR to watch movies.

No kitchen to keep snacks in.

No bathroom.

“It’ll be nice,” he continues. “I bet there’s lots of crickets chirping at night and the sound of the leaves blowing in the trees. This thing has a tin roof. Do you know how fuckin’ cool that’ll sound when it rains?”

The organic excitement in his voice is like that of a child’s—so pure and honest that I’m carried along to that place with him.

“It’s perfect,” I say softly.

He kisses the top of my head and puts his arm around me. “It is.”

As we walk back to my car, he asks questions about my job, showing genuine interest in my life, and I hope he’s forgotten about his idea of staying in the shed. When we finally reach my car, he takes his things, and when he kisses me on the street, I wish I had one of those minivans with a fold-out bed in the back and curtains over the windows. I would let him and Acorn live in it, and he wouldn’t have to look for a somewhere anymore. Maybe he’d finally want to stop wandering and walking.

“I have something for you,” he says with his hands still on my waist. “It’s just something I made when I couldn’t sleep and was thinking about you.”

“You were thinking about me?”

He kneels and opens his duffel bag. “I think about you a lot. Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know. No one has ever told me they were thinking about me before. I thought I was just… un-think-about-able.”

He studies my face as he stands. “That’s fucked up.”

He grabs my hand, and I watch as he wraps a bracelet around my wrist and clasps it. I inspect the bracelet under the streetlight, running my finger lightly over the colored beads strung on a thin, black leather cord. I marvel at one tiny bead shaped and painted like a ladybug.

“You made this? For me?” My voice cracks, and I bite my lower lip to keep it from quivering.

“Yeah. I know it’s not much. I just wanted to give you something.”

“I love it. The ladybug is adorable.”

“I wanted you to have a reminder. You can’t piss off the ladybug and defy the love myth.”

I stand on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I’m never going to take it off.”

“Someday you will.” He pulls away and rakes his hand through his hair. “Or someday I’ll fuck up and you’ll throw it at me.”

He’s wrong. I could never be mad at him, and I’m never taking the bracelet off.

Two days later, I’m invited over to the shed by way of another note I find on my car seat when I’m leaving the office. I guess it’s a good thing I always forget to lock my car, and I probably never will again now that I know he’ll leave me notes.

Due to the nonstop rain, I haven’t seen him since the night he gave me the bracelet. Not being able to see him or talk to him was definitely starting to upset me. But the rain has stopped, and now I have a note telling me he misses me and wants to see me. It makes me happy enough to overlook the shed part.

Before going to see him, I drive across town to my house to change into comfy stretchy jeans and a sweatshirt, unsure of what else to wear on a shed date. While I’m there, I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then fill Archie’s dishes and grab two cans of soda and an unopened bag of chips to bring with me. I know he doesn’t like me bringing him things, but I can’t change who I am, and I’m a person who likes to give to others. I’m also a person who likes snacks. If we’re going to be sitting around talking, then we should have cold drinks and munchy food. Or maybe this is just my attempt to try to sprinkle some kind of normalcy into this unconventional situation.

When I pull up in front of the abandoned house at the end of the dark street, I can’t get out of my car. The invisible hands of common sense and logic grip me, trying to force me to spin the car around and go back home.

I almost do.

But then I see him walking down the driveway toward me, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, untied boots thudding on the asphalt with that sexy, confident walk.

And then that smile. It’s that magical smile that’s sexy as hell one minute and adorable the next that’s going to be my undoing.

He opens my car door and leans his arm on the roof as he peers in at me. “You coming out of there?”

I take my keys out of the ignition, grab the bag of snacks, and climb out of the car. He steps back just far enough to pull me forward to close the door behind me. Then he backs me up against the side of the car. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger and turns his head to the side to blow out a cloud of smoke.

“Thought you forgot about me.” Today, his voice is deeper and scratchier. I wonder if he’s getting sick or if he’s been singing in a smoky bar downtown instead of just playing guitar.

“How could I forget you? It’s been raining, that’s all.”

He moves forward until his body touches mine. “Maybe that’s when I want to see you the most.”

“When it’s raining?”

He moves his hand hesitantly down my arm. “As much as I love the sound of the rain, the moody gray clouds and the rainbows, the storms trap me. I can’t stand the thunder and lightning and all the wind. That’s when I need you the most. You’re like my own little sunbeam.” A weak smile touches his lips. “You chase the storm away.”

I stare up into his eyes and see my first glimpse of the other side of Blue. But I’m so entranced with his lyrical words and being considered a sunbeam that I don’t hear what he’s saying.

“Then I guess I better find my umbrella,” I say with a smile. “And next time it rains, I’ll come find you.”

His response is a sizzling kiss that nearly melts me into the car door.

“C’mon. Let’s go inside.”

The way he says it makes me think he’s somehow gotten into the abandoned house, but as I follow him up the driveway, he passes the walkway leading to the front door and leads me to the backyard. He holds my hand as we walk through the wet weeds toward the shed. A dim orange glow illuminates the small window, and I assume he must have his lantern on inside. The door of the shed is open a crack, and Acorn pokes his nose out when he hears us approaching.

“Hi, little guy,” I say as we step inside, and he immediately starts wagging his tail and bouncing on his front paws.

“I think he likes it here,” Evan says.

I stand near the door and peer around the small, dim space. I’m afraid if I move, I’ll walk right into a spider web. A sleeping bag is on the floor under the window, and Acorn’s dishes are on the other side of the room, next to Evan’s guitar case.

“We can sit on the sleeping bag.” He moves the lantern from the middle of the floor to one of the corners. “Or we can sit on these old lawn chairs I found. I just have to clean them off.”

“Um….” I gnaw my lower lip and try to fight off all the phobias that are engulfing me.

“What’s wrong?”

The breath I’ve been holding whooshes from my lungs. “It’s just a little scary in here.”

“Scary how? What are you scared of?”

“Spiders, mostly. And bats.”

“The only thing in here that can hurt you is me.”

A shiver creeps down my spine. “Would you?” I whisper. “Hurt me?”

He backs me up against the cobweb-strewn wall and leans his arms on either side of my head, trapping me.

“I don’t want to, but I will. And you’ll keep letting me.” He brushes his lips across mine. “You falling in love with me will destroy us both.”

My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can feel it against his own chest.

I force out my next question. “You think I’m falling in love with you?”

“Why else would you be here?”

I tremble as he grabs my waist and presses his hard body against mine. I want to deny his accusation, but his lips on mine stop the lies from spilling from my mouth. I’m pinned like a butterfly specimen, splayed open with no way to hide, vulnerable to his physical and emotional scrutiny.