Julian: A Dark Angel Series Companion Novella (Dark Angel #3) (12 page)

Living with Hazel was turning out to be very therapeutic. It gave me a hell of a lot of time to think, spending countless hours in her garden with her animals, which Blaze seemed to enjoy as well. I still apartment hunted, but everything I found said no pets and there was no chance in hell I was abandoning Blaze. Hazel would scold me as she rumbled through the discarded newspapers, quick to notice the red circles highlighting the vacancies. We had a long discussion one day, and I was very forthcoming with my intention to find my own way and not burden her. She explained that the process of finding oneself is not something that happened overnight, plus she really enjoyed my company. Something about the way I ate my cereal reminded her of her son George.

During the week, Adrianna brought Ash over to play with Blaze. It was quite the reunion, both dogs running around in the backyard like two of the happiest creatures I had seen. Blaze was healing well, according to Amy, and the fact that she could run was a huge improvement. I had never felt so relieved when Amy informed me of Blaze’s progress; perhaps I didn’t have to hurt everyone around me.

It was a lazy Thursday afternoon spent sitting on the porch with my laptop, job hunting. The fact that I hadn’t heard about my manuscript was dampening my spirits. I knew the drill, countless resumes being sent in hopes of a bite. Emails sent to a number of contacts, mainly interstate. I resisted applying for any positions in New York, not yet anyway. I may have been on the road to recovery, but I wasn’t ready to head back to the place that started this whole clusterfuck.

My mind is occupied with a job listing for a newspaper located in a small town in Arizona when my cell beeps, startling my concentration.

My turn!

Recognizing Adriana’s number, I reply instantly with a smile. We had exchanged numbers that day on the field trip, that whole ‘if you need me, cry for help or give me a buzz’ thing.

You’re not taking me to a pedicure place or something? Girls and happy places = pampering and shopping.

She responds immediately.

Oh damn, you ruined it! Henrietta my beautician would have been in heaven manicuring your man toes. I’ll be at Hazel’s to pick you up in an hour.  See you soon xx

The one thing I have learned about Adriana is that she is punctual. If she tells you an hour, she means an hour.

“Okay. Are you going to tell me where we are going now?” I beg, all whiney.

I really am not a surprise type of person. When I was thirteen my mom and sister decided to throw me a surprise birthday party. I still remember the moment when I walked into the house and everyone jumped out and yelled “surprise”. I literally shit my pants; embarrassing would be an understatement. Mortifying would be more appropriate. No one knew it happened; I just ran up to the bathroom and locked the door shut until everyone left.

“You are terrible. Not much longer, okay? Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to a secluded part of the woods so I can murder you with an axe.” She rolls her eyes at me in amusement.

“Huh…so explain the axe in the trunk?”

“You never know when you may need to chop wood…for a fire,” she adds with a devilish grin.

“We live in California. It’s like a hundred degrees out here. Should I dial 9-1-1 now or give you a head start?”

“Okay, we’re here,” she cheers.

I look out the window and see a sign that says ‘Farmer Joe’s Apple Picking Farm’ in bright colors. We get out of the car, and in closer view I see rows and rows of apples without an end in sight. It almost looks like a maze. 

“This here is my happy place.
Was our happy place
,” she quickly corrects herself. “Before Elijah passed we discovered this place on the way to the beach. It was supposed to be a pit stop to pick up a few apples but we got lost in here for hours. Picking out apples and talking about anything and everything.”

Her face radiates as she talks openly about her husband, and I listen eagerly, enjoying this side of Adriana that she rarely shows.

“There were so many things I didn’t know about him, the smallest things from his childhood.”

“It’s beautiful, Adriana, and I happen to have a thing for apples.”

She hands me a basket. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

In my whole life, I never thought apple picking would be this satisfying, searching apple after apple for the perfect one. Some were small, some were large, some were bruised and some were oddly shaped. Was there a perfect apple? Who fricken knew. All I knew was that I was looking for the perfect one, a delicious perfectly shaped ruby red apple that would make my mouth water.

We talked a lot about life, mainly Andy. Adriana was happily chatting and I was happily listening. When the subjects changed, we started talking about my childhood and I found myself opening up about Chelsea.

“I hated the way Chelsea would always talk about kissing. I must have been in sixth grade and all she would talk about was kissing. I may have thought it was the grossest thing in the world. She even told me how she practiced on her pillow.” I cringe, recalling the memory like it was yesterday.

“Oh, we all did that. It’s like a rite of passage into puberty. I would kiss my pillow and actually hold it like a face.” She blushes, quick to cover it with a laugh.

“You didn’t…” I tease.

“Sure did. Occasionally, I would grope the pillow’s butt, but hey, let’s not go there.” She giggles.

I shake my head at her confession. “Who would you picture kissing?”

“Let’s see. Around that time was my Saved by the Bell phase and I had a huge crush on Slater,” she admits.

“As in
Mario Lopez
?”

Her eyebrow perks before she blurts out unexpectedly, “Should I be worried that you knew that?”

“No…I had a huge crush on Jessie,” I admit.

“
Please
…I bet you it was only because of that stripper movie. God, my brother would practically watch that movie every night on mute.”

“My turn to be disturbed? Sure...it was a great movie. Really educational,” I lie pathetically.

“Educational my butt…oh, look at this apple…it kinda looks like a butt!” She laughs really hard and I can’t help but mimic her actions. It could have been a clone of J-Lo’s butt, it was that exact.

The laughter dies down as the conversation switches to a more serious topic.

“If Chelsea was here today, do you think you would have stayed together?” she asks.

The question catches me off guard; it’s something that I had never thought about...until now.

“Knowing Chelsea, she would have married a jock. She was too into being popular.”

“That’s normal at that age.”

“Maybe…”

“Charlie mentioned you the other day,” she blurts out.

I shift my head down. Was I supposed to answer that? My silence was not helping, but I hadn’t thought about Charlie in a while.

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I say, lowering my voice.

“Well, what’s the first reaction you had in your head?”

“To ignore you. That I shouldn’t talk about her. That I didn’t want to talk about her. That I hadn’t thought about her for a while.”

“You’re scared?” she asks.

“Not scared. It’s just that, for once I feel like I’m moving forward with life. I’m breaking down all my walls. I’ve actually got a date with someone tonight.”

“
A date?”
The pitch of her tone is high, and I see her attempt to pull an apple from its stem impatiently. Her body language changes as her shoulders tense.

Quick to brush it off, I reply, “Someone I used to work with. It’s just dinner.”

“Dinner leads to sex, Julian. You are a male after all,” she says plainly.

“That’s a very stereotypical comment. It’s not all about sex,” I correct her.

Despite what people thought, it really wasn’t. I was at a point in my life when I knew the difference. Sometimes I needed a good fuck, and other times I craved companionship. They didn’t always mix together, and it was that exact reason why I had to set boundaries. Not fall for the obvious.

She lets out a huff, scrambling her apples around. “It always is. Why would a single man your age want anything but sex with a new girlfriend?”

“Don’t put me in that category, Adriana. I’m not after a heavy relationship, but I’m not exactly willing to throw myself into a relationship based on sex only. I’ve got a hell of a lot of soul searching to do. I’ve only had two serious relationships, Serena in college and Charlie. Look where that went.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Julian. Women throw themselves at you. This chick would be expecting nothing less.” The malice in her tone catches me off guard, offending me with her comment.

“So are you trying to say I am worth nothing but a good time in the bedroom?” I ask hastily.

She stumbles on her words. “No…I don’t mean that. Quite the opposite. I’m not relaying my message properly.”

“What message is that?”

“Despite what you may want, women do see you as that drop dead gorgeous man that they envision in their bedroom. I know you’re trying to find yourself, and I’m sorry for making you feel worthless. I’ve only ever had one relationship…and if God wasn’t so fucking selfish, he would still be the one.” She stands up and dusts off her pants.

My immediate thought shifts to Adriana, forgetting about our argument. “Hey, you okay?”

She stops, her eyes slightly glazed over. “No…it sucks. What the hell would I know about dating? I know I’ll probably have to do it one day even though the thought of it makes me want to break out in hives and vomit profusely.”

“A date?” I question.

“Yes. And have sex with someone else. I’m not a nun.”

“You’d be a waste of a nun,” I point out, softening my tone.

“That’s a shitty pick-up line, Baker.” She punches my forearm softly, followed by a relaxed laugh.

I nod in agreement. “Never said I was a pro, don’t be fooled by the exterior.”

We spent another hour walking through the fields, lost in mindless chatter. As the sun slowly set, we called it a day and drove back home.

Adriana pulls the car up in front of Hazel’s home, prompting me to unbuckle my belt.

“Thank you for today, Adriana. I’ve got enough apples to feed a herd,” I joke.

She continues to stare out the window, lost in thought. I give her a moment; Adriana needs time to process her thoughts and pushing her doesn’t get you anywhere but into a heated debate.

“No, thank
you
, Julian. Being able to talk openly about Elijah means a lot to me and I can’t believe how much I miss talking about him.”

“I wish you could see your face when you talk about him. You look so alive,” I admit.

“My family walks on eggshells whenever his name is brought up. It’s like they think I will break down, so they just avoid talking about him. I hate that they do that.”

I place my hand on hers reassuringly. “Adriana, you need to tell them it’s okay to talk about him, in fact it’s therapeutic. Sometimes you’re going to have bad days and get emotional, and that’s okay too.”

“You’re right. I need to stop being treated like a porcelain doll. When a porcelain doll breaks, what do you do? You glue her face back together with superglue,” she rambles.

My shoulder moves involuntarily as the laughter consumes me. “I wouldn’t know, Adriana, I’ve never owned one and don’t plan to anytime soon.”

A smile traces her lips before she boots me out and wishes me well on my date.

I sat across the table from Nyree. The date, if you want to call it that, is nothing out of the ordinary so far. She was a fantastic cook, preparing some Spanish meal that I had no chance of pronouncing. Most of the time we talked about work since it seemed to be the only thing we had in common.

The apartment is opposite the beach, a beautiful view of the ocean, the air lingering of salt and humidity. With the balcony doors open, there is a soft breeze blowing on the sheer organza curtains that hang by the door.

“It’s a nice place you have,” I say politely.

It’s an open plan living room and dining room combined. The furniture is all white, but doesn’t appear too sterile; it’s nicely decorated with splashes of bright colors and a million cushions.

What’s with the cushions?
I’m not a picky guy, but I think cushion-loving women need to come with a warning.

“I love this place. Moved here about two years ago.” She finishes the last drop of wine, informing me she is going to grab some more and to make myself comfortable on the couch. I never really understood when people say to make yourself comfortable. Isn’t that what you would naturally do? Why would you purposely make yourself uncomfortable?

As I move over, I sit on the edge, not sure if I’m allowed to mess the carefully aligned cushion thing going on.

Grabbing my cell, I text a message just out of curiosity, wondering if this needs to be brought up in our therapy sessions.

Since you’re a woman, can you please explain the purpose to me of why you need a million cushions on a lounge?

I’m not expecting an immediate response, but Adriana’s text comes through instantly.

I’m guessing date night is getting cozy. To be honest I hate cushions. You only need one. Are you expected to take them on and off every day?

The comment throws me off. It wasn’t at all like that; I didn’t want that…
did I?

She’s gone to get more wine so to answer your question it’s not one of those dates. You know Eric is a serial cushion freak.

Nyree was taking an awful long time to get wine. I poke my head to the side, unable to see her shadow in the kitchen. Maybe she stored wine somewhere else in her apartment. Like where…her bedroom?

Eric is a freak in everything. More wine eh? That can’t be a good sign. Losing your touch Baker?

This feeling creeps in, a part of me telling me to leave now. Why though? Adriana didn’t say anything untrue; typing at record speed I send a text followed by regret. I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know what it meant, and the worst part is that I don’t want her to feel guilty.

Maybe, or maybe it’s just the wrong person.

I hear the gentle footsteps behind me and feel the touch of Nyree’s hands massaging my shoulders. I close my eyes for a few moments, hoping her touch connects with me somehow, but it might as well be a ninety-year-old woman touching me because it feels wrong.
All wrong.

I shouldn’t have sent that text.

Why did I say that?

She didn’t respond. I hurt her, I made her feel guilty, and I knew it.

I crossed the line in our friendship, and that thought alone is tearing me up inside.

Nyree must be sensing the tension in my muscles; she squeezes harder then moves towards the sofa. She is wearing a thin purple negligee. It is very sheer and I can see her pink nipples erect under the garment. Between her long tanned legs and her perfect breasts, she is absolutely stunning and irresistible to any man before her.

Except me.

Watching this model-like woman stand in front of me, ready to pleasure me in a way I haven’t been pleasured in a long time, one would think that my pants would be ready to burst.

Yet I sit here, flaccid as a starfish, and all I can think about is how smooth her skin is.

When all I wanted to kiss were scars.

How her eyes shine bright, full of life.

When all I wanted to look into were the eyes of a warrior.

How her lips are plump and luscious red.

When all I wanted to taste were red, raw, chapped lips.

Nyree reaches out to touch me and I recoil instantly, startled by my reaction.

I can’t feel this way about Adriana. You are her friend and have formed a special bond with her that cannot be broken. These thoughts are poisonous, like a sick carousel of emotions. Do not break that trust.

“Is something the matter?” She seems taken aback.

“I uh…I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I respond.

“A lot on your mind or someone else on your mind?” She pulls back, the hurt evident on her face.

I give her my full attention and I know that taking the next step would be wrong. I would maybe satisfy myself sexually, but for once, I know the consequences and don’t need another Band-Aid to fix the problem temporarily.

“I need to go. I’m sorry, Nyree.”

She covers herself with a cushion. Ha! So that’s what they are used for.

“Is she worth it?” she asks.

I think about my answer. “She is worth it. She just belongs to someone else, always will.”

…

It is two a.m. and I am wide awake. Tonight didn’t go how I planned, and throwing fuel into the fire, my feelings surfaced and now it was all I could think about.

I need to see her, just so I can get some clarity on this situation.

I send a text.

I’ve been thinking about you and dating. I feel bad that you probably suck at it so I’m taking you on a date tomorrow with no happy ending – yes I had to go there. Show me what you got.

My cell beeps five minutes later, just as I am about to head to bed.

Thanks for telling me I suck, which I do. I have absolutely no comment on your happy ending comment which is odd since I always have a comment on everything right? Ok you’re on Baker. I’ll wear my date outfit or shall I call it slutty black dress and I’ll even shave my legs!

I can’t contain the smile on my face, glad she wasn’t offended by my text.

Why on Earth are you awake? Should I shave my legs too?

I actually did shave my legs…well, more like trimmed them. Years of playing basketball.

Yeah ok but don’t tell me what else you’re gonna shave cause that’s TMI. Insomnia’s a bitch.

We agree to meet at a little French restaurant tomorrow night at seven. Adriana says she’ll see if she can get a sitter, but then says Eric owes her a favor for using all her hairspray the last time he was over. I don’t ask any questions; Eric’s hair needs a damn committee to run it.

I still didn’t know if I was doing the right thing. I was trying my best to follow my instincts, and the thing that worried me the most was that they led to her.