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“It’s got to be the same Clay hitting on my friend then.” She smiles and my zapped heart stops beating.
“He is. I saw them on the way out.” I turn to face her finally and her eyes lock on mine. There is something so striking about her that I can’t put my finger on it, and her eyes are so blue and clear, I feel like I’m falling into them. Blue to blue comes to mind again. They’re beautiful. She’s beautiful.
“Lake Horizons Road, that’s where we’re staying.” So she isn’t local; she’s vacationing. That answers that question.
“Maybe we’re neighbors then.” I offer her a small smile and that’s when I see it. “You’re wearing a Blue Horizons t-shirt. Where did you get that?” I’m shocked. I haven’t seen one of these t-shirts in years. At least, not one that isn’t in my closet.
She looks down at her clothes and runs her hands down the sides of her skirt like she wants to make it longer.
“Oh, I got it years ago. They were a local band that used to play here.”
“Yeah, I know. Did you ever see them play?” My curiosity is evident and she looks back up at me peculiarly.
“Yes, a couple of times actually. I guess you could say I was a fan. I even have two of their albums. I take it you’ve heard of them?” She gives me a small smile.
How do I answer that? This beautiful girl was a fan? She saw the band play, but yet she doesn’t recognize me? I feel as if I’m having an out of body experience. I’m already attracted to this girl because of her looks, and now it seems as if her taste in music is exceptional as well.
“I have. Clay and I have been coming here for years. Do you live around here?” I need to know more about her. Why? I don’t know . . . but for some reason I do.
“No, New York City.” She wraps her arms around her middle. It’s a defense mechanism—she clearly doesn’t want to talk about herself—and I have to pull my eyes away from the way she’s pushed up her chest. She’s a thin girl, but based on this move, there’s definitely a good handful. Forcing my eyes back to her face, that’s when I see the moonlight reflect off of the tiny diamond stud in her nose. Internally, I groan. That piercing is hot. Everything about this girl is hot.
“Forgive me for asking, but how old are you? You don’t seem old enough to know them. They stopped playing like five years ago.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think. And I’m twenty-five.” She shifts her weight from side to side.
Silence fills the space between us and she glances towards the door.
“So where on Horizons Road are you staying?” I don’t want her to leave. I want to keep her talking. I want to learn as much as I can about her before she disappears.
“Oh, I can’t remember the exact address. Cross the bridge, turn left, and it’s the fifth house on the right.” I can’t help but smile at her; those directions are almost identical to the ones I gave Clay last year. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I’m the eighth house on the right.”
She drops her gaze, smiles, and then looks back up at me. “I guess that does make us neighbors.”
“I guess so.” I continue to watch her and she shifts her weight from side to side. A shiver runs through her and it dawns on me she must be cold. The fingers on her left hand begin to twitch, and although I’m not sure why, it’s as if she’s suddenly gotten nervous.
“Listen, I’m gonna go.” I point my thumb towards the parking lot.
“Can I go with you?” she blurts.
My eyebrows shoot up and I watch her expression turn to horror as she realizes how that sounded. “I mean, do you mind dropping me off on your way home?”
I start laughing and then so does she. There’s that sound again. I could get used to hearing that. Wait! What am I thinking? I don’t want to get used to that. Getting to know this girl means having to tell her who I am. Reality sinks in and I look at her speculatively. She’s probably no different than all the others. She sees the shift in my mood and takes a step back.
“Never mind, my friends will be ready soon enough. I’m sorry again for what happened.” She moves past me and grabs the door handle to go back inside. Ugh. I don’t want her to go back inside.
I reach out for her arm. “No, I don’t mind. It’s not a problem.” She jerks her arm away from me and the fear returns to her eyes.
Whoa. This girl seriously does not like to be touched. I hold my hand up so she can see I meant nothing by the move.
The only sound around us is the muffled music coming from inside. Her uncertainty lingers between us and then she straightens her back.
“Okay, great. Which one is yours?” She lets go of the door and starts walking toward the parking lot. I’m thankful we came out the back door; last thing I need is someone flashing a picture of the two of us together. I walk behind her and notice that she drops her head so her hair hides her face as we approach a few people.
“The black one-fifty in the back.” She slows down, looks at me hesitantly, and then loosely loops her arm through mine, still keeping her face down. I’m beginning to wonder who this girl is because only people who are followed or watched regularly behave this way.
I pull my keys out of my pocket, unclick the locks, open her door for her, and she quickly slides in. As I walk around the front of the truck, I feel her eyes on me.
