Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) (6 page)

That last dance I promised to Maeve before heading home was cut short by
him
. Well, not exactly. I know that the moment he appeared in front of me I should’ve left, but I didn’t chicken out fast enough. No, wait, I did. And he came running after me, asking me what was wrong, and talking me into joining him. Today I threw “stranger danger” out the window and joined the stranger who is now holding my hand. Perhaps leading me to my impending doom.

What if this out-of-whack stranger plans on imprisoning me for the rest of my life? For all I know, he really believes we’re soulmates and thinks I belong to him. My skin prickles and my heart thumps madly. These may be my final moments. Either that or I’m having the same intense attraction I had to him before. I should write a note and drop it where it can be found, or scream for help. Wait, he isn’t forcing me to follow; only holding my hand while his thumb caresses mine. I can’t deny that the feel of his fingers on my skin is more than nice.

Stepping into Joe’s was like walking through that Twilight threshold again. Jacob appeared in the middle of a sucky song to profess that we belong together. My cowardly personality made me try to escape, but he caught up with me. I feigned annoyance, but the moment he approached my table, I found myself staring at those intense jewels that had captured me the moment we exchanged gazes at the bookstore. The eyes that followed the bus as I left him standing in front of the ice cream parlor. Is he right, that the stars have something written about us? I at least have to agree that fate has thrown us together once again. Four times actually—what are the odds?

Should I ask him why he ignored me last week? No, I’ll act laid back. I don’t want to sound like a desperate girl. I’m not desperate, but I must confess, I’m a bit of interest in him there. To think that after our first meeting I hoped we’d never see each other again. Then when our second one happened…I hoped he had been right. Fate, destiny, the stars…something had to work in my favor because I haven’t been able to get those mesmerizing eyes out of my dreams and fantasies.

With a guy like that, I’d have to be dead not to think about a kiss—or something more, with the reaction his touch provokes within my body. Maybe it’s my inexperience; not him. Either way, I dig this blue-eyed funny boy, and being with him sounds better than heading back to my depressing home where I will only end up daydreaming about him and his potential hot kisses.

Maybe those fantasies I’ve had are about to become a reality as we enter a building, climb up three flights of stairs, and enter the only door on that floor. The presence of a huge piano in the middle of the room, and next to it a set of drums, brings my worries and illusions to an abrupt stop. There’re a few guitars lying around, and some other instruments whose names I don’t know. It’s a room dominated by objects that belong in an auditorium, a shop, or maybe a stadium where a band can play an entire show. Not an apartment. There’s no dining table nor is there a couch. I spot an air hockey table instead.

Who has instruments and games as their main furniture?

Jacob releases my hand and heads to the first room. Instead of following, I approach the drums and tap the cymbals with the tips of my fingers, then move over to the piano, where I slide onto the bench. Once upon a time, Mom and I sat in front of the piano. She taught me the major scale and promised to teach me how to play. However, she was so busy that it never happened. By the time I turned eight, my parents sold the piano—the one object I believed would bring Mom and me together.

“Here, wear this.” Jacob hands me a blue sweatshirt. As I slip on the garment, the whiff of sandalwood makes me sigh. “You think you’ll be warm enough?”

“Depends.” At that moment, my shoulders relax—his plans don’t include taking off my clothes. “Are you planning on taking me to the North Pole?”
Or are we having sex?
Stop, Pria. He said not unless I wanted. I don’t want sex. Only kisses. Yes, several of those.
The place where his lips touched my skin continues to sizzle. Not even the light, cold wind has affected that area.

I talk myself out of that nonsense. This isn’t the time to think about what we could do in this empty apartment. After all, seventeen and a virgin isn’t bad. I’ll worry when I turn fifty and I still live at my parents’ place, caring for my sister.

Wait. I sound like my sister.

“No, we’re heading upstairs. It can get chilly, but I have a blanket too. If all else fails, I’ll keep you warm.”

A tie of hot blood wraps around my neck as I imagine the ways he can warm me up under that blanket.
Clean thoughts!
If my mom finds out what I’m thinking or what I’m doing, she’s going to send me to the priest to confess all my sins.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.” Upstairs? That gets my attention. Jacob pulls me to a standing position and I stare at those breathtaking eyes. “But first, let’s find some food. Anything you don’t like or would prefer to eat?”

I shrug and take another glance at the piano.

“That’s a pretty piano. Big for this apartment, but nice.” Clamping my lips together, I don’t point out that the rest of his
furniture
doesn’t belong here.

“It’s one of the best birthday presents my parents have ever given me. It was Dad’s piano—his first one.” His boyish smile makes me want to kiss him on the lips as he tells me about that birthday and how they celebrated. Which I shouldn’t—kiss him, that is—because I don’t know him at all. He might be attractive, but he remains on the lunatic list, and has been penciled on the psycho-killer list. “My parents have numerous stories that involved us—the piano and me. Like Dad cradling me while he played—the only way to soothe me. They swear I learned to walk just so I could reach the keys and play it.”

My heart melts and a dreamy sigh follows as I think about that sweet baby who would only sleep with the sounds of his father playing. He shrugs again and enters the kitchen. This time I follow because I want to learn more about him. But nothing else is said.

“The musician part is for real?” My curiosity sparks while waiting for more. They mentioned a band and how they’ll be famous in about a year—after graduating.

“You doubt it?”

I refrain from confirming that, no, I don’t believe anything of what he has said.

“Of course, I am. Music is my life, my oxygen, what keeps me grounded. I plan to make it big, like Dad did.”

“Your dad is famous?” I hesitate a bit on the question because his back had stiffened the moment he said those last words, but my mouth just spit the question out.

He presses his lips together and nods. However, he doesn’t explain any further. Instead, he rushes through the kitchen, grabbing a bag of chips, waters, and a box of chocolates. Their pantry screams candy store. I don’t bother to point out the obvious; instead, I follow him outside the apartment, climb another four stories and go through the exit that leads us to the roof.

I sit on a pile of cushions. As I finish settling in, I realize he has disappeared without warning. My belly clenches, not in a good way, but fearing he’ll leave me here stranded. Thankfully, he returns holding a guitar. He sits next to me, takes out a pick from his pocket and begins to strum.

“Any requests?”

“I’ve no idea.” I lift my hands, open palms and shrug. “But I like almost everything. Not sold into the folk music style.”

The corners of his lips lift upward, gifting me a charming smile.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” He continues with the entire song and then switches to some tunes I’m not familiar with. After three obscure melodies, he jumps to well-known songs by the Beatles, U2, Blink 182, Oasis, Panic! At the Disco, and Dreadful Souls. His husky voice strokes my entire skin, and suddenly I’m in a trance, listening to each song he plays while watching the sky. Every strum of his guitar, every word he recites caresses every cell of my body, as if feathery kisses are showering my soul as he captures my heart with the sound of each note.

He opens a door to a place where I can escape outside my own skin. Here, I not only watch the stars, I can walk among them. Seattle is miles away, my family is no longer able to touch me, and it’s only us watching the silver dots as he serenades me with his soul. My head rests against his shoulder while he continues jamming. In only a moment, he erased everything and left me with the taste of what a perfect day is like. I haven’t had one in…I can’t remember, because I can’t concentrate on anything more than what he sings.

“This is one of my favorite things.” He takes a swig of water and points at the twinkling dots that hide behind big blankets of clouds. “Watching the stars, playing my guitar. Now I might add one element to the equation of the perfect closing to a day. You.”

“How can you say that, when you barely know me—or my name?”

Jacob’s strange—nothing like the boys I went out with in high school. The first only held my hand. It lasted three weeks and then we broke up. My second was at sixteen and we had only one thing in common—we enjoyed making out in the alcove behind the auditorium doors. The third took me to prom and was so drunk he couldn’t drive me back home. We had gotten to third base the weekend before, but after the drunken episode, Mom didn’t let me see him again. I wasn’t much for chatting. Usually, when I talk to a guy and have this kind of conversation, we end up in the friend zone. This guy is too pretty to be friend-zoned. Mae would kill me if I tell her I met this tall blond boy with dreamy, blue eyes and we didn’t kiss.

“If I say that my soul knows yours, you’re going to think I’m crazy.” I bite the laugh while squeezing my eyes.
Certifiable
. “Why are you here and yeah, what’s your name?”

“I don’t know…because my sister told me to do something out of the ordinary.” I extend my hands, palms upward, and shrug. “There’s something about you that I can’t shake, and it makes me want to stick around. Pria, the name’s Pria, Jacob.”

“I like it.” He side glances at me as I say my name and kisses the palm of my hand mouthing it;
Pria
.

“Exactly. The same reason why I have to find out more about you,” he says lightheartedly, adding a boyish smile. Jacob lays his guitar down. I guess the jam session is over. My pulse slows down as I realize it’s time for me to head home. “There’s a reason we’ve come face to face three times, and why you didn’t call a mental institution, even when I did sound like a maniac.”

Yes, mainly because I’d like to find out if he kisses the way he looks—beautifully. Maeve will kill me if I tell her about the adorable, tall, blond boy with dreamy, blue eyes, and that I didn’t kiss him.

“So, you come up here often?” I tilt my head and move my attention back to the sky. “Watching the never-ending sky?”

“Never-ending sky? I like that.” Jacob grabs me by the waist, places me between his legs and pulls me closer to him. My back leans against his chest and, in an instant, I’ve landed on cloud nine. “No, I wish. Back at home I used to spend nights camping, or at least inside the reading room. It’s made out of glass and no matter how the weather is outside, you can watch the sky. My father uses it a lot to run lines and practice before he starts filming.”

Intrigued by another piece of his history, I try to recall everything I know about celebrities. Mom is a Hollywood junky; she reads the gossip magazines like they’re the gospel. She prides herself on knowing everyone and everything that pertains to them. Yet, I can’t think of any actor who’s a musician too.

“Is your mom an actress or a musician?”

His limbs tense, as does the rest of his body. He doesn’t respond, but I have the gut feeling I asked something I shouldn’t have.

“It’s just a question. That’s how you get to know another person, right? That lie your brother told about never being out of your house is starting to sound like a true story.” I chuckle, but he doesn’t. This isn’t smoothing over whatever nerve I might’ve touched; it’s making it worse. “Like my dad—he’s a major geek who works for Microsoft, and Mom’s a nurse. However, she only works part-time. We live in Redmond. Mmm, what else? I was homeschooled until third grade, when Mom decided that I had to socialize. But instead of starting in third, I skipped a grade. Which was a good thing, because now I can defer a semester or a year and no one will think I’m too old to be a freshman.”

“I was homeschooled too.” His muscles relax. “Up until now that I can’t graduate online. Stupid parents and their rules.”

He points at the stars and tells me that he used to go camping with his family to watch meteor showers.

“I think my father would’ve been an astronomer if he hadn’t picked finance as a major and ended up becoming a movie star.” He laughs, and I’m confused about his father: the musician, finance guru, and actor. “Well, he’s among stars, right?”

“Mom wanted to be a ballerina.” For no reason, I continue telling him more about my parents, as if I want to complain about them, but end up just talking about who they are and what I know about their past. “However, her parents couldn’t afford to continue her training and told her to put her feet on the ground and become something useful. She became a nurse because it was easier than being a doctor. Dad, well, he’s among computers, so that makes him happy.”