I’m afraid to read the rest of his letters because I know there will be no turning back after I do. I won’t be able to keep my distance if I open the lid on that box and see more of his heart, cracked and bleeding all over those pages that traveled thousands of miles to get to me. The tiny voice in the back of my mind that has reminded me time and time again to do whatever it takes to keep Eli safe will disappear as soon as I read those letters. I won’t have that voice of reason keeping me focused and I won’t even care as long as I’m with him. I knew from the moment I came home from college and he picked the lock on my studio for the first time that he would ruin me in the best possible way. I knew from the first second he kissed me that we’d be able to accomplish anything as long as we were together.
The ding of an incoming text sounds from my phone resting on the bed next to me. Glancing down, I don’t even bother picking it up when I see it’s from Landry. He’s phoned and sent me text messages several times a day since he left. I haven’t answered or responded. What in the hell would I even say to him at this point? I know I didn’t give him any kind of an explanation as to why I ended things with him before he left, but I assumed my silence would at least show him that I meant it. I’m sure the longer I wait to reply, the sooner he’ll go running to my mother and I’ll have to hear about how I’m inconsiderate and rude and ruined everything.
I look down at the box at the foot of the bed, then back at my phone, then at the box again. Two more rapid-fire dings come from my phone and I don’t even bother looking at it. I quickly reach for the box and pull it onto my lap, settling back against the headboard as I lift the lid and toss it to the floor. Sifting through the first five letters I already read, I grab the next one going by date order and pull it out of the envelope.
October 23, 2010
Shelby,
Remember that day in your studio, the week after you’d gotten home from college? In case I forgot to tell you, that was the day I knew I was going to fall in love with you. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this and I’m not really good at this whole letter-writing thing, so I’m just going to tell you a story in these letters. I’m going to tell you the story of us, from my point of view, so you know exactly what I was thinking. I’m hoping it will be a better way for you to see that I meant everything I said in my first few letters. I love you, Shelby. Only you. Always you.
I’d never had as much fun in my life as I did the week after you came home from college. The highlight of my day was sneaking away from work, picking the lock on your studio, and seeing you dance for the first time. The highlight of my LIFE was watching the look on your face when I pissed you off and suggested you try dancing to some classic rock next time before I waltzed out the door like it was no big deal.
You had no idea how much strength it took for me not to stalk across the floor, pull you against me, and kiss you. You had no clue that the only reason I quickly turned and walk away was because I couldn’t hide the massive hard-on I got just by watching you dance for a few minutes. I was afraid I’d fucked up and just blew any chance I’d had of convincing you to spend time with me by being a sarcastic asshole.
My hands were shaking and sweaty when I snuck away from Paul the next day and picked the lock again. I felt like the biggest pussy in the world when I got butterflies in my damn stomach as soon as I pushed the door open and heard “Hotel California” blasting through the speakers down the hall.
I leaned against the wall at the back of the studio, holding my breath as I watched you lose yourself in the music until the song ended and you noticed me standing there. Just like the previous day, you put your hands on your hips and glared at me and it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. Since the whole sarcastic asshole thing worked the first time, I figured I might as well try it again.
“I dare you to try some rap tomorrow.”
I winked at you like a douche bag, turned, and walked back out of the room. It killed me to walk away, especially when I heard you shout, “GO TO HELL, ELI JAMES!” when I got to the end of the hall. I laughed under my breath and it took everything in me not to turn around and run back into that room.
More than wanting to watch you dance again, I wanted to watch you get fired up and indignant, stomp your foot, and huff at me, because there was something underneath that attitude you tried throwing at me. SOMETHING that made you do what I suggested no matter how much it annoyed you. I wanted to know what you were trying so hard to hide from me with the rolls of your eyes and pretending like you didn’t care if I came back or not. Instead of turning around, I went back to work and spent the rest of the day fucking everything up and listening to Paul yell at me about getting my head out of my ass because I couldn’t stop wondering if you’d listen to my suggestion again.
The next day, I repeated the process of slinking through the stables when Paul wasn’t looking, picked the lock, and couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread across my damn face when I poked my head in the room. You usually danced in bare feet, but that day, you had on a pair of high-top Nikes.
With Eminem blasting from the speakers.
That day, you didn’t move in your usual graceful way, but with a lot more hip action that brought up the same hard-on problem from the first day. At the end of your dance, you turned around and raised one eyebrow at me expectantly, not saying a word. Just waiting for me to give you another music choice, even though I could tell the very idea pissed you off.
God, I wanted to kiss you. Instead, I went with what was working for me and told you I wanted to hear some country. You might think I didn’t know anything about you, or never paid attention to you in all the years I’d worked here, but you’d be wrong. It was all I could do NOT to follow you around like a puppy, even before you went off to college. It didn’t take long for me to realize you were nothing like the spoiled princess I thought you were. I might not have said much to you all those years, but I listened to every damn word. And one thing I knew for sure, just because a girl grows up in the South, does not mean she likes country music. You hated country music when you were twelve and you still hated it when you went off to college. I wanted to see just how far you would take this thing that you didn’t even realize was happening.
I’m not even ashamed that when I got home from work that night, I Googled all the dance shit I could and learned that what you were doing that day was called hip-hop. I watched a ton of videos and realized I’d also seen you dance ballet and contemporary. I also learned that none of the women in those videos came anywhere close to your talent, or had the same focus and love for what they were doing in their eyes.
When I grabbed on to the handle of the door the next day, I realized just how far you’d take it when I found it unlocked for the first time. It didn’t even matter that what I heard piped through the sound system wasn’t country. You wanted me in that room with you just as much as I wanted to be there.
The music was horrible and almost made my ears bleed, but just like every other day, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Instead of waiting until the end of the song to confront me, your eyes met mine in the mirror as soon as I walked through the door. You turned around in the middle of the room, lifted your hand, and crooked your finger at me.