Which is one thing I like about her.
I open the door and we step inside.
My house is fairly simple. The best part is the open kitchen, living and dining area, with the massive patio over the ocean. Otherwise it’s a pretty small two-bedroom. I’m mainly paying for the view of the water, the city, the mountains.
“I’d give you the tour but there isn’t much to see except the view,” I tell her as I start looking through my cupboards for a first aid kit. Finally, I find it in one of the kitchen drawers as Alyssa slowly wanders along the white tile floor.
“Take a seat,” I tell her, gesturing to the couch.
She eases herself down, her eyes taking in everything. “All white. Don’t you find it so hard to clean?”
I drop to a crouch in front of her and fish out the iodine and cotton pads, then pull her arm out so the scratches are facing me. “To be honest, I’m just here to sleep. I’m on set most of the time or I’m out.”
“Out where?” she asks and winces as I press the yellow liquid into her.
“Sorry,” I apologize for the pain. “Out with you.”
“But we’re a new thing. So, you were out with other girls before me?”
I try and shrug it off as I dab it along her arm. “Yeah. I guess.”
“And Will.”
I nod. “Sometimes Will.”
“Who else do you hang out with?”
I pause, lick my lips. “I have a friend, Jimmy. Known him all my life.”
“Will I ever meet this Jimmy?”
I glance up at her face, her big eyes earnest and questioning. Despite the fact that she’s injured and I’m fixing her up, she looks so fucking sweet right now it makes my heart ache.
“Maybe,” I tell her. No one I know has ever met Jimmy and I can’t imagine how she would react. Then again, something tells me that maybe she might be one to understand.
I push the thoughts away, to dwell on for another time.
“Does this hurt?” I ask her, gently working on the other arm.
She shakes her head. “Not really,” she says softly, watching me as I work. Then she nods to the corner of the room where I have a few plants. “I like your cactus.”
I grin. “Thanks. I just got it. Named it after you.”
She laughs. “You did not.”
“I did. Alyssa the cactus. She’s a prickly one.”
“Oh come on,” she says. “You are too much, you know that.”
Too much and not enough all at once.
I ignore that sobering thought. “I thought when I start missing you, I’d have something just like you to talk to.”
She just laughs and I feel this strange warmth spreading in my chest, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I like her. A lot. And I like being with her. A lot.
Maybe she can read the expression on my face or pick up on the vibe I’m giving, because she then lowers her voice and says, “Do you ever get lonely?”
I pause and meet her eyes. “That’s a bold question.”
“I know,” she says and see that she’s completely serious. Her questions are coming from a soft, kind place though.
I run my tongue over my teeth as I think. “Yes. Very much so,” I admit.
She nods slowly. “So why don’t you ever settle down?”
“You’re asking the thirty-eight-year-old man-child why he doesn’t settle down?”
“Yeah. I am. There’s a reason. What is it?”
I exhale, taking a moment to get a new cotton ball out. “Honestly? I just…I don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”
“Because you haven’t met the right person. Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
“Of course. I was even engaged.”
She jerks her head back in surprise. “Really? Who? What happened?”
“It’s a long story. Not very interesting. She was in wardrobe. We met on our play in London. I fell in love, or in something I thought was love. So did she. I moved back here and convinced her to come. She left it all behind. And then I realized…she didn’t really know the real me. And I couldn’t pretend anymore. So I broke it off.” The dark sticky swirls of the memory attempt to drag me down but I brush them off. “Poor girl. I felt horrible. Honestly, I still do. She gave it all up to be with me, moved her life all the way over here, and I left her in the end. I guess that’s just the type of person I am.”
I briefly meet Alyssa’s eyes but instead of seeing disappointment in them, I see compassion. “But that’s life,” she says after a moment. “People take chances and get their hearts broken and break up. It’s the chance every single one of us have to take if we ever really want to get anywhere. And in the end, it means she just wasn’t the right person for you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t even imagine who the right person could possibly be.”
But that’s a lie. You can imagine. She might be right in front of you.
Scratch that. I don’t want to imagine.
“I’m complicated,” I go on. “And complicated people need other complicated people to work. Otherwise, you don’t fit.”
“That’s a load of crap,” she says, eyes fiery. “The right person might be complicated or simple or both. The right person will find a way to fit into your cracks until you’re flush.”
Alyssa is taking me by surprise here. For someone so dry and cynical as she seems to be, she’s doling out the advice like it’s her job. I’m starting to think there’s something much softer hidden under her armor. Whoever gets to see that secret part of her is a lucky man.
“I’m not an easy person to love,” I admit and the words crash around us like a demolition.
Fuck.
I can’t believe I just said that. That’s the kind of thing you tell your therapist, not your date.
Then it’s good you aren’t actually dating her.
Nothing to lose.
“That was a brave thing to say,” Alyssa says softly, seeming as surprised as I am. “But if that’s true, then it just means the right person needs to work a little harder, that’s all.”
“Love shouldn’t be work.” I pour more iodine on the pad and lean in closer, patting it on her chest.
“Sometimes it is though,” she says. “But it’s worth it.”
I bite my lip and nod, trying to pay attention to the scratches on her chest and not look into her eyes. The last thing I want is to believe that I might be worth it.
Deep down, I know I’m not.
I screw the cap back on the iodine bottle and finish up on her chest, even though it’s pretty obvious now that she’s cleaned up enough and I’m just touching her for the sake of touching her.
“Thank you,” she says in a whisper.
I take in a deep breath through my nose and look up at her. “For what?” My throat feels dry, my words come out slow.
“For patching me up,” she says, giving me a wane smile that puts a dimple in her left cheek. “It feels nice to be taken care of.”
In this moment, she looks absolutely vulnerable. She looks like her armor is starting to slip, that I might be getting a glimpse of the beautiful pink heart underneath.
Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching up to cup her face, pulling her face toward mine until our lips are crashing against each other. She lets out a moan I feel all the way to my toes as our tongues stroke each other into an inferno.
“Emmett,” she says softly–fuck, does my name sound good right now–and her hand disappears into my hair, taking a hold and tugging.
I unleash myself on her neck, licking and sucking just the way she liked it before, until she seems to yield, her body running hot, her moans so sweet and desperate and hungry for more.
Fuck I’ll give her more. So much more.
While she sits there, all flushed and bothered on the couch, I get undressed to my briefs in a flash, her eyes taking in my body before she’s joining in and ripping her shirt over her head, her breasts bouncing free. I drop to my knees and take off her running shoes, then pull down her tights. My hands slowly work their way back up her thighs.