Final Play (Matchplay Series) (4 page)

Of course, it didn’t.

“Intriguing?” Marney scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“Are you asking me to define the word for you or are you not satisfied with the word I selected?”

“The latter.” I knew if I turned around, Marney would probably be scowling at me.

I heaved a sigh and tried to explain myself further. “I find Ella physically attractive but it’s more than that. When I met Ella it’s like I discovered for the first time that I’m a magnet but I’m
only attracted to her magnetic pull. It’s an overwhelming attraction that I feel like I can’t control. And I don’t want to.”

“
We’ve officially moved into the
you’re-really-scaring-me
zone,” my sister announced.

I knew it was inevitable the more I talked about Ella with my sister and
Marney, the more it would freak them out. I also knew that it was something they were going to have to accept. “Evan and Keira mentioned that Ella frequents a place called Arts². I plan on going over there this week to see if I can find her.”

“Couldn’t you get a phone number?”
Marney asked. “That would have been a lot easier.”

“I might have been easier if she had a phone,” I stated.

“She’s doesn’t have a phone?” My sister sounded incredulous.

“Apparently not,” I reiterated.

“How is that even possible?” My sister still sounded doubtful.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked. “Because you do rea
lize that one does not need a phone to survive. Food, water and shelter are necessary but a phone is not.”

“Now I’m officially intrigued, too,” my sister replied. “I want to know how anyone can survive in the 21st century without a phone. Inquiring minds need to know.”

“If I find her,” I stated. “I’ll be sure to ask her that question. Just because you have to know.”

“I’m sure that’ll be on the top of your
list when we see her again,” my sister said just to be obnoxious.

Why did I say
if
? I wondered. I had to find her again, didn’t I? I didn’t think it was an option at this point. It felt like a necessity.

Marney’s
head popped up between us again. “I just have to say that I can’t wait to see the woman who already has Lucas wrapped around her little finger and she hasn’t even put out yet.”

I was sure that was just the beginning of the teasing and to
rmenting I would get from both my sister and her girlfriend. Giving me grief was almost like a hobby for them and they were so good at it.

Not that I didn’t often give it right back. I just wasn’t in the mood. “Can you just give me a little space?” I asked instead. “I just want some time to see where this thing goes.”

When I glanced at my sister, she looked a bit taken aback. We were rarely serious with each other. The last time we had a super-serious talk was when she came out her freshman year of college.

“Sure,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to pry or overstep any boundaries.”

My stomach sank because I thought my sister might cry. I suddenly felt awful for shutting her out.

“Yes, she did mean to pry and overstep her boundaries,”
Marney interjected. “She can’t live without being in the middle of people’s business, especially her big brother’s. And don’t let her little guilt trip fool you. You should know your sister is a master manipulator and apparently she had perfected her acting skills.”

When I glanced at my sister again, I could see she was gri
nning. She did get me good this time.

I shook my head. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

My sister playfully knocked me in the arm. “Awww, come on, big brother. You know you love every minute of it. What would you do without our constant teasing, nagging and other assorted foolery? Your life would be empty.”

It looked like I was stuck in the clown car with my sister and her girlfriend.

Two

Arts² wasn’t very far from campus but the area was a little less desirable than some of the other neighborhoods that bo
rdered the university. The place was a converted Craftsman-style bungalow that looked like it was built in the 1930s.

I stared at the building for a few moments trying to muster the courage to enter the place. So many seemingly random thoughts raced through my head. What if she wasn’t there? What if she
was
? How would I even go about finding her once I entered the building? I didn’t want people to think I was a stalker. Would she remember me? How could she forget me? Maybe she didn’t feel the same strong connection that I felt. But that didn’t seem possible. The energy between us seemed to be an even exchange. The faster my mind raced with all of these thoughts, the more confused and anxious I felt. I always prided myself on being calm and collected and rational. Now I felt anything but…

“Hey,” a male voice said as someone approached from b
ehind. “You must be new.”

The guy was my height, about six feet, but he probably ou
tweighed me by about fifty pounds. He wasn’t fat; it was all solid muscle bulging through a tight grey tee shirt.  His shaved head and pierced eyebrow gave him a rather menacing look. That, and the fact he wasn’t smiling. He was wearing black jeans and black work boots. The only parts of his body, not covered with clothing, his forearms, were covered with tattoos.

“I’m Lucas,” I managed to squeak out as the guy checked me out from head to toe.

The guy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not an artist, are you?”

I shook my head. “I’m an engineer.”

The guy actually let out a laugh, which was even more disconcerting than his ominous stare. “You look like an engineer.”

At least that was something I was used to. Nearly every pe
rson who met me said I looked like an engineer. I never took it as a compliment.

“I’m looking for Ella Warner,” I finally mustered the courage to say.

The guy’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “That chick is trouble.”

Apparently every person who knew Ella felt like they had a duty to warn me about her. I was getting used to the caveat. “Do you know where I can find her?” I prodded.

He folded his arms over his massive chest and stared at me. “Why?”

“I, um…” I wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make me sound like a fool or a stalker. I decided on the honest approach.
“I met her at a friend’s wedding over the weekend. I wanted to see her again.”

“Did you go to school with her shithead brother?” The guy clearly didn’t care much for Evan. Not that I blamed him. I didn’t either. But it also got me wondering how well the guy knew Ella. He obviously knew her well enough to know Evan, and even something about the wedding we’d both attended. He didn’t look like the type of guy I imagined Ella with. The type of guy I imagined Ella with was tall and lanky, kind of nerdy, but still likable. Kind of like me.

“Yeah,” I said. “But Evan and I weren’t friends or anything.”

The guy gave me another once-over. “You don’t look like someone who would be tight with Evan.”

I didn’t want to get into a lot of details about how I knew Evan, so I tried to steer the conversation back to matter at hand. “Do you have any idea how I can find Ella?”

“If she’s here, she’s in the painting studio.” He didn’t make any movement to enter the building. He just stood there with his big arms folded over his even bigger chest, just staring at me. I wasn’t sure if I should just enter the building or if I was even allowed to.

The guy must have decided to take pity on me because he eyes softened and he said, “Come on. I’ll show you where the painting studio is.”

When we entered the building, the first thing I noticed was a cacophony of smells—turpentine, wood, paint, glue—all assaul
ting my senses.

The guy was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Ever been to an art studio before?” he laughed. It was obviously a rhetorical question because I probably looked like I was going to choke on all of the chemical smells and dust.

“No,” I managed to get out with a cough.

“You’d better get used to it. Ella spends a lot of time here.”

We passed a room with several other guys who looked just as menacing as the guy I was following. They were all sculpting different types of metals.

We stopped at the threshold of a larger room and the guy turned to face me. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You look like a nice, normal guy. I’m not sure you can handle Ella, dude. The girl’s a freak.”

I gulped. “I’m sure,” I lied. I wasn’t sure about anything other than the fact that I wanted to see Ella again.

“Whatever,” the guy replied. “It’s your life. If you want to completely fuck it up, you came to the right place.”

I had to admit that when someone, who looked the way he looked, thought I’d fuck up my life by being with Ella, it was cause for a little alarm. It didn’t stop me in my pursuit, however.

The guy entered the large room and I followed. The place was filled with easels and canvas
es, paints and paint brushes, and other assorted artist materials. And one person, a stunning blonde in the corner of the room, seemed completely absorbed in the painting she was creating.

“What’s up, little miss hot mess?” The guy said as he a
pproached Ella.

“Not much, train wreck,” Ella replied without turning around. She obviously knew the guy just from his voice. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the realization that the two had most likely been intimate at some point.

“There’s someone here to see you,” the guy stated. “A civilian.”

Ella’s entire body tensed when I softly said her name.

“Lucas,” she whispered without turning around. I felt a bit of pride that she recognized my voice, too.

When Ella turned to face me and our eyes met, every ounce of fear and worry I had about seeing her again was replaced with complete and total awe. I had seen only a few things in my life that were awe-inspiring: a sunrise over the Atlantic
ocean; the sun glistening on snow covered Appalachian mountains; a baby blue jay hatching from an egg; and Ella Warner looking at me.

She completely took my breath away.

“Thanks for showing Lucas where to find me, Steel,” Ella said to the big guy without taking her eyes from mine.

He laughed. “Have fun, Lucas.”

After he left, I asked, “Is that guy’s name really Steel?”

“That’s what it says on his driver’s license.”

When I glanced at Ella’s painting, a “wow” escaped my lips before I had a chance to suppress myself.

“Do you like it?” She seemed uncertain about her work.

“No,” I blurted and she looked stunned. I quickly continued. “Like is not a strong enough word for how I feel about this work. It’s utterly captivating. I don’t want to take my eyes off of it.” Just like you, I wanted to add, but refrained. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Not that I knew a lot about art
but being friends with Rainy, who majored in art history, some knowledge rubbed off on me. Plus, Rainy often dragged me, Olivia and Marney to art exhibitions she needed to attend for class.

“I can hear colors,” Ella stated matter-of-factly. “This work is a symphony of colors.”

I hadn’t thought of the vibrant painting that way but after she said it, it made perfect sense. The way she blended the rich hues of blue and green definitely gave the effect of a symphony of color.

“It’s one of a series,” she mentioned as she headed over to another part of the room where more paintings were propped against the wall. Four paintings similar to the one she had shown me
lined the wall. Each was in a different color scheme: sunburst orange and yellow; royal blue and purple; blood red with rust and sea oat mixed with gold. I was completely blown away by the intensity of the work and the raw emotion the pieces seemed to evoke.

“I’d love to know what you hear when you hear these co
lors,” I said.

“You believe me?” She seemed surprised.

“That you hear colors? Of course. It’s called Synesthesia, a mixing of the senses.”

“Does it happen to you?” she asked.

“No, but I’ve read about it. I find it fascinating.”

“It’s just one of the many reason my family thinks I’m nuts.”

“Maybe you’re misunderstood,” I ventured.

When she looked up at me, she
had a faint hint of a smile, kind of like the Mona Lisa. “Or maybe I’m just crazy.”

The energy surge between us was so intense, and so immense, it made the huge room we were in suddenly feel tiny. 

“So why did you really come here?” Ella asked. Her silky blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she was wearing oversized shorts and a tee shirt that made her look much smaller than I remember. Or maybe it was the large space we were in that made her seem even more willowy, like a strong breeze would just blow her away. She seemed so fragile and vulnerable, I had an overwhelming desire to take her into my arms and comfort her—or take care of her—or both. I’d never felt like that toward anyone before. The unfamiliarity of the feeling was discomforting. I felt myself fidget even though I was rarely one to fidget.

I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if you’d like to maybe get a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t do caffeine. It does weird things to my body.”

“Lunch maybe?” I offered. “Do you want to take a break?”

She stared at the painting she had been working on when I entered the room. “Yeah, I guess I could take a little break.”

“Do you know of any good places to eat around here?” As familiar as I was with the areas around campus, I wasn’t that familiar with this particular neighborhood.

She gave me that little hint of a smile again. It made me wonder what she was thinking. “Yeah, I know a place.”

To my surprise, she grabbed my hand. I was normally the type of guy who waited until after the first date to make any physical contact.
If I was really lucky and feeling particularly brave, I might go for a peck on the cheek at the end of a really good first date.

I wasn’t sure this would even technically qualify as a real date. Right now, we just seemed like two people grabbing a quick lunch. I wasn’t even sure she was interested in me in any way other that friendship, although the energy between us told a much different story.

After we made our way out of the building and she pulled me down the quiet, mostly residential street, she said, “I hope Steel didn’t scare you.”

“You mean that looming hulk of a guy covered in piercings and tattoos?” I teased. “Why would he scare me?”

“He’s not as bad-ass as he wants everyone to believe.”

I wanted to ask her if she had ever been with him but I have to admit I was afraid. She’d already told me she had quite a few more partners than I had, which was a bit intimidating if I was going to be honest. I never considered the fact that I might come face-to-face with one of her former lovers.

Or that she’d still be friends with him.

At least I assumed he was.
Both. Her former lover and a friend. It seemed that way. But why was I even giving him so much consideration? Was I jealous? I always thought jealousy was for people who were unable to control their impulses and use their rational minds.

“Was he your boyfriend?” I found myself asking before
I realized what I was saying.

She gave me an odd look, her brow furrowed and her head
tilted slightly to the left. It was as if she was thinking I just asked the most ridiculous question on Earth. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

The statement was so matter-of-fact, it caught me off guard. “But you said you slept with
fifty-eight guys,” I reminded her.

She laughed. “We didn’t do much sleeping.”

“Can we agree you’ve been with quite a few guys?” I asked.

“I guess it depends on your definition of
quite a few
but you’re right—I’ve had sex with fifty-eight guys. Good memory, by the way.”

I wanted to say:
how could I forget
. “I’m an engineer,” I said instead. “I have a thing for numbers. But what I don’t understand is how you could have been with fifty-eight guys and never had a boyfriend.”

Ella stopped and gave me a kiss on the cheek, which co
mpletely caught me off guard—again. She was really good at doing things that completely surprised me. “I wish I had an answer to your question but I don’t.”

Then she took me by the elbow and we started walking up the walkway to another Craftsman-style house. But while Arts² was rundown and neglected, this house looked like it had been immaculately restored. What immediately struck me, though, was that the front of the house was elaborately adorned with a
plethora of amazing flowers and plants, beautiful lilacs and crocuses with a smattering of daylilies

I wondered why on Earth we were headed up to someone’s front door. I stopped midway up the walk. “What are we doing here?”