Chasing Stars (15 page)

“While you shower I am going to call Niki.” I say, pretending I don’t notice his eyes burning into the bare skin of my long, long legs. That’s right, Will, these legs will be wrapped around you throughout the night.

“Sure,” He kisses me before entering the bathroom.

Niki is with her jerk of a boyfriend. They are flying back to LA tomorrow. I barely tolerate the idiot. Needless to say, he feels the same about me. Knowing he will not hesitate to pull Niki and I apart doesn’t help, especially since I also know that she adores him. How do I compete with that? For the first time in my life, I am afraid to lose someone. I don’t like it one bit. But for now, there is not much I can do.

I hear her sweet and low voice, which pushes my worries away. After a brief retelling of my crazy day, which even I am still trying to wrap my brain around, we agree to have breakfast together. I hear Ray in the background, interrupting our conversation, and I hate him a little more. Trying to shake off the feeling, I say good-bye to Niki.

Sadness ripples down my spine, at the mere thought of losing Niki. She has never been this serious with anyone before and the guy—besides hating me—gives me the creeps.

Switching gears, I think about Will, his addictive smile, and his indomitable spirit. As usual, I am led by my impulses. Spending the night with him is by far the shittiest idea I had, but I needed more of him. In my defense, I am willing to play his game, and wait for him to give in, and seduce me. Simple as that.

My mind reels and my emotions are a jumble of new feelings. I realize that a foreign sentiment flourishes in my heart. And, though I won’t dwell on it, it worries me.

I muse for an instant about the people I love. Wow, I do love people. Truth is the few people in my life I love are Tarry and Niki. Our friendship keeps us afloat, serving as a life preserver. In addition, I love Stefan and with him came Marina, who I love because Stefan loves her, does it make sense? Then, there is Chloe, the purest form of love I have ever experienced in my life. I remember when I visited her in the hospital. I held her for the first time and her tiny fingers wrapped around my pinkie, the entire world faded around me.

“So, do you accept?”
Stefan had asked with an anxious tone.

“What?”
I looked at them dumbstruck.
“To be Chloe’s godmother?”

My attitude confused Stefan. I gazed at the little creature, and I mumbled teary,
“How can I not?”

What I am trying to explain—and understand—is why my chest aches with a need for Will. Because I will not allow myself to get deep with anyone, despite how charming the person is.

Steam emerges from the bathroom, swirling around Will as he strolls toward me. From the bed, I see his rippled chest muscles under rivulets of water. He attaches his iPod to the dock, choosing the same playlist from the day he tattooed me.

“I like your bed,” I inhale deeply. He lies next to me, his sultry smell intoxicating me.

“No kidding, I thought you liked my floor better.” He chuckles softly.

“Well, I like whichever surface you’re on.” I snuggle with his chest, my body molds to his.

“Ditto.” He has one arm tucked under the pillow and the other over my hip. I feel warm and safe, a heady and dangerous combination.

I strategize quickly. Will does not go for flirtatious Portia. Maybe a tad of flirt, but Will likes the genuine me. So be it. I can lead with that.

“Thank you for today, Will.”

He kisses my hair. “I am relieved you didn’t hate it.”

I hear his heart beating and it is hypnotic. “How could I? Your family is wonderful. Though Mel wasn’t too thrilled to meet me.” I couldn’t care less about her disapproval.

“That was unlike her. She is worried about Tim,” he says with concern. “Mel is the most generous person I have met, even more so than Dan.” I notice the solemn tone he uses when he speaks of her.

“Wow, you really like her, huh?” I say, making a mental note not to mess with gorgeous foster sister.

“Mel was almost fifteen when Dan brought me to live with them. She was a freshman in high school.” He pauses for a while. “I was a dickhead and an outcast who didn’t give a shit about others,” he explains. “Because I was so behind, they placed me at her level. Mel had the choice to ignore me or even dislike me. Instead, she reached out and she tutored me. She taught me to play the guitar, sat with me at lunch, and graciously shared her family with me. To this day, she has never asked for anything in return.”

“How about her husband, is he coming back for the baby’s birth?” I inquire.

“Yeah, he will. You are going to love him. He is the funniest person you can meet.”

Sure, I would, if I was around for the family reunion.

“Will?” My voice falters.

“Yeah, baby.” He sounds sleepy.

“When did you start painting?” My eyes glance at the painting of a girl flying a red kite with swirling leaves.

“When I was sixteen.” Will is on his side. I reposition myself to face him, my hand seeks his, and we intertwine our fingers, lying inches from each other.

“Where are your parents?” I whisper, afraid to upset Will and break the intimacy.

“I never met them. My father died before I was born, and I haven’t got a clue of who or where my mother is.” His dark eyes are sad, distant.

I make a mental picture of him all alone in the world. I try to comprehend how it is possible for him to lack the resentment and bitterness that are collateral to abandonment. “How was it? Growing up without a family?”

He takes a deep breath, pulling our entangled fingers to his chest. He is silent, and for a moment, I regret the probing.

“The way I see it, I survived, which is a plus.” He brings the back of my hand to his lips, planting a trail of kisses on my knuckles. “The bouncing around was hard. Before being placed with Dan, I was with over a dozen different families, and several group homes. I never learned the notion of a normal family.”

I consider what he is telling me for a moment and realize that my life story is a fairy tale compared to his. “I can understand. When I was little, I thought, most busy parents sent their kids to boarding school.” I smile.

“How long did you attend boarding school?” He pulls my hand back to his chest and the thumping of his heart vibrates under my fingers.

I chuckle. “Mom sent me away when I entered second grade. A while later I met Tarry. I told him how passionately I hated being there. He enlightened me on how to obtain my freedom. For the following six months, I made life impossible for the school administration, until they expelled me. Mom figured it would be less time-consuming hiring nannies than dealing with school principals.”

“Genius.” His lips curve up into a mischievous smile. His tousled hair is damp, making him look even more delectable.

I sense an easy and mutual understanding humming between us. My heart thumps with a harmonious rhythm. I want to close the small space separating us, but I restrain myself. The perfect synchrony of exchanging the most intimate and soul-deep details of our existence is rare.

Hypnotized by the cadence of his voice and mesmerized by the depth of his emotions, I watch every detail of Will’s face as he tells me his childhood tales. I note when he omits parts of the story, his eyes turn a shade of obscure and become impenetrable.

“Christ, Will, you could write a book,
Three Steps to Ditching Your Dubious Foster Family
.”

Slowly, sometime during his storytelling, sleep finds me and lures me into a serene rest.

“Details, please tell me everything.” Niki leans over the table with an attentive expression.

We decided to have breakfast at her hotel’s restaurant. To my delight, dickhead is in their room on a conference call. Did I mention he is the chief executive officer of a stuck-up company? Crap, the stiff jerk is a savvy executive. I feel insecure again about my friendship with Niki.

“We talked—”

“You already told me that, I want to know how he is as a lover. You know. Sex. Mating. Lovemaking, bodies entangling as consequence of perfect body chemistry. That part.” She wraps her slender fingers around her cup and leans closer, sipping from her coffee.

“We didn’t,” I say curtly.

“What?” She spits the coffee. “Oh-kay.” She draws a harsh breath of air. “Nothing as in
nada
.” She is almost hyperventilating. “You didn’t sleep together?” Her eyes widen as she frowns. Niki is the only person I know who can do that.

“Yeah, we did. You know, like when the mind is unconscious and the body is at rest?”

“What the hell? You are kidding me, right? Please, tell me you’re joking,” she utters.

“Oh, uh no.” I twist my hands under the table.

“Oh. My. God. I get it.” Her frown deepens and her eyes are wider. “Wow. You are falling for this guy.”

“Hell no.” I nibble on a croissant, chewing slowly.

“Oh, yes you are.” She smiles.

“Shut up Nillie.” I bite inside my cheek. “Mmm, it is just different.”

“How does he feel about you?”

“Will is really cool, you know.” I look away, avoiding her scrutiny. She can see through me and I am unsure of my feelings. “He has some weird beliefs, though.” I sip from my coffee. “It doesn’t matter. He is just a good distraction, while I am in New York.” I shrug.

“Portia, is he aware of his role in this?” she asks.

“Um, I don’t think it is a secret for anybody, that I don’t do steady.” There is relief when I say it. For a brief moment, last night, I thought of the existence of an
us
. But there is not a chance of me ever surrendering to the falling in love crap. Only bad things come out from it. Love is debasing and elusive, and trying to hold onto someone is like attempting to retain smoke through our fingers.

“Just be careful not to get hurt. And don’t hurt Will. He seems a nice enough guy.”

“Oh, says Miss I’m-in-love-with-Mister-Perfectly-Stiff. C’mon, Nillie, can’t you do better? He is a freaking CEO,” I say.

“Oh, hey now! We are talking about you.” She raises her hands. “And since when is being a CEO a flaw in anyone’s character?”

“It just is,” I say.

And that concludes the therapy session during an overpriced breakfast in a stuck-up hotel chosen by Mr. CEO. God I hate the man.

I say good-bye to Niki.

Firmly refusing to dwell on any of the discussed things, I roam aimlessly through Manhattan until Saks Fifth Avenue invites me in with a silver dress on display. It has my attention. Inside the store, classical music flows and an attendant, a tall
GQ Magazine
model, greets me with a perfect smile and immediate recognition in his eyes. Oh my! I have goose bumps on my skin, and it is not from the blasting AC. I will take him. To go. Unwrapped please.

“Hello, how may I be of any assistance?” His lustful eyes travel along my body, stopping at my breasts for a beat.

I smile, my slow lazy smile, and flutter my lashes. An unabashed and obvious invitation. My body language sends him a clear message with not so hidden promises.

“Can I try on the dress in the display, please?” My voice is sultry.

“You certainly may.” His understanding eyes meet mine.

“I’ll wait for you in the dressing room.” My hooded eyes stare at him for just long enough.

I head to the back of the store, and yes, I search my mind and try to remember if I have a condom in my oversized Prada bag. Along the way to the dressing room, a miniature Armani sweater dress demands my attention. I stop for a moment at the children’s department. It occurs to me that Chloe’s birthday is coming up and she would look adorable wearing the dress. Smiling, I begin looking at the adorable mini-human clothes. The GQ model-attendant spots me and gives me a confused look.

“Sorry, I changed my mind. I will be shopping for my goddaughter.” I see disappointment crossing his face. But he regains control quickly.

“Well, let me assist you with that, then.” He flashes a regretful smile. “How old is she?” he inquires.

“She will be one in a week,” I tell him.

“We just received the fall/winter Burberry collection. Let me show you.”