“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.
“I know you want me, Piper.” He slides a gentle hand along the curve of my hip, then down over the back pocket of my jeans. He cups my ass cheek in his hand and squeezes hard—like he’s claiming ownership. “And I know you’re falling in love with me.”
“Blue….” I say his name like what he’s saying can’t possibly be true.
“Don’t worry, baby. I think I’m falling in love with you too.”
He lifts me off the floor in a single motion that seems effortless. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and hold on tight while he carries me to the other side of the room, releasing my hold on him only when he lowers me onto the thin sleeping bag.
“And….” His eyes darken for a moment and it fills me with that flash of worry that he’s got one foot ready to run if I get too close. He’s scared. Maybe as much as I am. “… it’s scaring the fucking hell out of me.”
He climbs between my parted legs and lowers his mouth onto mine, kissing me in that crazy, desperate way he does, like there’s something inside me he needs and can’t find.
When I can’t breathe anymore, I pull away. His long hair falls into my face as I stare up into his eyes. The thin sleeping bag offers no protection from the wooden floor, and I shift slightly beneath his weight while I gather my thoughts.
“We can be scared together,” I whisper reassuringly, trying to convince both of us that it’ll be okay. Although honestly, I’m not sure anything can extinguish the fear his eyes convey.
He nods, his eyes locked onto mine, and slowly rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. The shaking of his hand is like a vise around my heart, and it clenches and explodes into millions of little pieces aching with love and protectiveness over him.
“Have you been in love before?” I ask softly. Did she hurt him? Was she the reason he left his home? Did she kick him out?
It takes him a few moments to answer, and he uses those moments to slowly remove my clothes while I use those moments to hope his answer is no.
He trails a finger from my stomach all the way up between my breasts, and my nipples harden into peaks from the feather-light, tickling touch.
“I have,” he finally answers, gently cupping my breasts and pressing his palm against the sensitive tips. “Been hopelessly in love.”
Jealousy creeps in like a monster, distracting me from the exquisite sensation of his warm hands on my body. “What happened with her?”
He bends down and circles my breast with his tongue, flicking his piercing over my aching nipple. The cool silkiness of his hair fans out over my skin.
“It wasn’t a woman. I was in love with drugs.”
The truth is unexpected but equally devastating.
He kisses a trail along my throat, his tongue teasing me while he palms my breast. “And now I’m in love with music and freedom. And a little sweet, sexy chick with a funky name.”
He flashes me his irresistible, crooked grin. I feel immediately grateful that his shaky hands have stilled and in place of the sadness in his eyes, I now see playfulness. Smiling, I reach up and touch the feather hanging from his ear.
“Tell me about this. Something as unique as this must have a story, right?”
“It does.”
He sits up and leans against the wall, and I rest my head on his lap as he lights up a cigarette. Acorn curls up on the sleeping bag next to us and rests his chin on an old, ratty stuffed penguin. I wish I knew what Acorn’s backstory is and if he sleeps on the toy because he’s afraid someone will take it away or if it gives him comfort. Probably both.
“I have this aunt who rescues birds,” Evan explains. “She must have at least a hundred birds of all different species. She has three that are over fifty years old.”
“Wow. I didn’t know a bird could live that long.”
He nods and exhales. “Some do. They often outlive their owners. That’s how she got them. The relatives of the deceased didn’t want them.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It is. My aunt lives in an old house with a massive screened porch, and the birds are everywhere. It’s noisy as fuck, too. Some talk, some chirp and sing, some just squawk, but she loves them. When I was younger, I used to visit her and help her take care of them. Every night, I’d climb out the bedroom window and onto her roof and smoke to try to chill out from the bird noise in my head. Sometimes she’d come out there with me, and we’d look at the stars and wait for the birds to sleep.”
“Were you two very close?”
“Yeah. She’s my mom’s sister, and I was closer to her than I ever was with my mom. When she was around.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “She had this one cool little blue bird. I’m not sure what kind of bird it was, but it was much smaller than a blue jay. It used to sit on my shoulder and chew on my hair, and it would fly right to me as soon as he saw me. He was my favorite for years, and when he passed away, she made me the earring out of a few of his feathers. She told me it would protect me and bring me peace.” He smashes out his cigarette. “I’m still waiting for the peace part.”
“It sounds like the bird really liked you.”
He shrugs. “I think he just liked my hair and wanted to make some kind of epic nest.”
I laugh. “You want to know what’s funny? The first day I saw you, a little blue bird flew into my head right outside my office. It scared the heck out of me.”
“Are you kidding? A bird flew into your head?”
“Yeah. Awkward stuff always happens to me. It’s embarrassing. I’m like a weird loser.”
“Hey.” He kisses my temple. “You’re not a loser. You’re cute. And you’re real.”
“Real?” I repeat.
“Yeah. You’re… you. You follow your heart, even though it’s taken you to a fucked-up person like me. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. Even though you’re kinda awkward, you’re still the most beautiful chick I’ve ever met. Inside and out.”
“Me?”
He lets out a deep laugh. “You repeat everything I say.”
“Sorry. You just say things no one else has ever said to me.”
“I might be the first to say them, but I won’t be the last. Trust me.”
I don’t want to trust him on this. I want him to be the only guy to ever say words to me that make my heart and stomach jump around with excitement.
He turns and slowly crawls over me like a large jungle cat, pushing me down on my back as he moves. He studies me with an odd frown on his face and runs his hand down the length of my body, then up again to rest on my hip.
“Don’t think about tomorrow, Piper. I can see it in your eyes, and it’ll only drive you crazy.”
I’m already crazy, though. I’m crazy about him, and I’m crazy for letting him fuck me here on an old, musty sleeping bag next to his dog and a stuffed penguin missing an eye, in a toolshed that smells like gasoline and fertilizer.
The thing about being crazy is that it can slowly become normal before you even realize it.
Chapter Eight
Last night, there was a message from Dr. Green on my answering machine, asking me to call her back at my earliest convenience. She left the message three days ago, but I had no idea that little red, flashing four on my machine indicated an important message. I assumed the four messages were all from Ditra, and I refused to listen to them because I knew she was beyond the joking stage about me not telling her all the details about my current life, and she had moved into the worried and demanding phase.
In a few days I’ll call Ditra and share everything with her. But first I need to call Dr. Green and find out what my test results are.