Page 21 of Three, Two, One [321]

I walk around the island and head towards the chair he pointed to.

“You don’t have to sit there, you know. You can sit outside. Or on the couch. Or go back to bed.”

I just take my seat and pull my legs up so I can wrap my arms around them. I’m so skinny these days, I practically curl into a little ball.

“You like spaghetti and meatballs?” he asks. “That’s pretty much all I can make.” And then he flashes that grin at me. A smile that says he’s charming and devious and dangerous all in one. It should set me back. It should send me running. But it doesn’t. It makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Relaxed.

I smile back at him.

His whole face lights up. “Fuck if you aren’t one of the sexiest things I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can only imagine how beautiful you are when you’re healthy.”

Healthy. That’s a nice sterile word for what I’m not.

“So spaghetti?”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“I have to run to the store for bread. Will you be OK here alone?”

He stares hard at me as he washes his hands in the island sink and then tears the plastic off a package of hamburger. I realize I’m still wondering if I’ll be OK when he calls out softly, “Blue? Will you be OK if I run to the store for bread?”

Blue. I have a new name again. Not Star, but Blue. I nod at him because he’s waiting for an answer. His hands never stop moving as he rolls the meat up into little balls.

When he’s done with that, he puts them in the oven, washes his hands, and starts the water boiling.

I never take my eyes off him.

He comes around the island towards me when he’s done and this is the first chance I’ve had—first sober chance—to see his body. He’s tall and lean with defined muscles in his arms, his abs, and his neck. He’s only wearing a pair of cut-off gray sweats that hit just below the knee, so I have a pretty good view. His blond hair is neither long nor short, but something in between. It’s messy in a very nice way. And his face is beautiful in a way only a man’s can be.

They make porn, my inner self cautions me. They make porn and his beautiful face is the lure they use to get girls to agree.

That’s true. But for some reason I don’t think I’m here to make them money.

“Blue,” he says again when he reaches me. He leans down, placing one hand on the chair arms on either side of my body, and looks me in the eyes. “If you want to bail on us, let me know. We’ll take you wherever you want to go. But don’t just walk off, OK? Because then I’d have to go back out into this shitty weather and find you all over again. And you’d be cold, and scared, and we’d have to start all over again with the warm bath and rest. So just stay and eat with me.”

I swallow hard as he stares at me.

“OK?” he asks again.

“OK.”

My voice makes him smile again and Jesus, yes. That smile is even better up close.

He kisses me on the head again, and stands back up. “I’m gonna go change. The store is just a block down. So I’ll only be gone like ten minutes.” I turn my head to watch him as he walks away and I’m still looking in that direction when he comes back out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather biker jacket that has zippers that jingle with each thud of his boots on the hardwood floors.

He looks a lot more dangerous in these clothes, my inner voice says. A lot more.

But that smile is still the same. “BRB,” he says with a straight face. And then he’s out the door and I’m left in this strange apartment. Alone. A state which has eluded me for the past year and a half, up until this very morning.

I sit there in the chair for a few minutes and take it all in. The penthouse. I do remember that from coming up here. Everything says masculine. The floors are dark gray concrete, but not the rough kind you see outside in driveways—the kind you see in malls, where they’re so smooth you can ice-skate on them. And the furniture is all made out of steel and glass. Cables are used as a design element, making the whole place look like a mix between futuristic and industrial revolution.

There’s a large sectional couch made of the light gray leather, accented with steel rivets on the arm seams. One end is just like a regular couch, but the opposite end is more like a lounger. The chairs are another shade of gray, overstuffed and accented with the same steel rivets as the couch.

There’s art on the walls. Black and white photographs of places I can only assume are in Colorado. They are of mountains and lakes. Snow and ice. Pine trees and aspens.

The kitchen has black cabinets and dark gray stone for countertops. It’s not something a woman would choose, of that I’m certain. The appliances are all high-end stainless steel and there is no clutter, other than JD’s in-progress mess, to indicate they use it often.