Forever Blue (18 page)

    
I
gazed at Scott tenderly, despite the annoyance building inside me,
and replied, “Yes?”

    
“I want you to know that I really enjoy spending time with you.”

    
“I enjoy spending time with you too.”

    
The chilly night air nipped at my face. According to my watch it was a half-hour before the beach closed itself to the public. A handful of people were still scattered along the pier like they were ready to pull an all-nighter. Scotty wrapped his arm around my waist,
and pulled
me in close. We approached the dead end at Ruby’s Diner, which meant we would have to turn around and walk back.
We snuggled together and gazed at the moonlit ocean
from the wooden railing of the pier.

    
“What an amazing view,” he commented.

    
“I could stand here all night.” I gently took his hand and said, “Thank you for a great evening.” I stared into his eyes, finally giving up.
I pulled his face close to mine, and
met his lips.
When our tongues touched,
a tingling sensation shot down my spine. I drew back and waited for
his reaction, unsure of how he was going to respond to my impulsiveness.

    
“Wow,” he said, almost breathless.

    
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks,” I confessed.

    
He pulled me up to his chest and swung his arms around my neck. “You do something to me, Alexa. I usually don’t get so nervous around women.”

     
I brushed my mouth over the patch of stubble on his cheek that felt like sandpaper. The texture tickled my lips. I breathed in Scotty’s scent, a mixture of soap and sunshine combined with the salty, fresh ocean mist.

     
Scotty cupped my face and when his lips pressed up against mine, I went dizzy. “You are incredible, Alexa Moore. Do you know that?”

***

    
My
house lights were still on
when we pulled up to my driveway, so
I decided to try my luck one last time. I was really looking for any way to stall this perfect evening from ending.

    
“Want to come in for some coffee?” I asked. “The night’s still young.”

    
Scotty looked out the passenger window and said, “I don’t know. It’s late. I don’t want to intrude.”

   
“You won’t. My mother loves guests, no matter what time of day. We don’t get enough company to keep her entertained.”

     
He shot me a sexy grin and pecked me on the cheek.

    
“How can I refuse an invitation like that?”

    
All seemed desolate
inside the house.
“Mom?” I called out.

    
“Oh, you’re home,” Mom said, appearing in the hallway. She was wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

    
“Did I wake you?” I asked.

    
“No.
I was just watching a little television. Did you two have a good time?”

    
“Yeah, we had a lot of fun,” I said a bit too noncommittally. At the thought of what Scotty and I were doing for the last hour, I was sure I turned as pink as her robe from the neck up.

    
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Moore. If you’re uncomfortable with me being here so late, I can—”

    
“Don’t be ridiculous! And please call me Denise.”

    
“I was just going to make Scotty some coffee,” I said.

    
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Scotty chimed in.

    
“I would love that. I think I have some leftover coffee cake in the fridge,” she responded in delight.

    
We all gathered in the kitchen. Mom poured coffee and served cake. Listening to her converse with Scotty was interesting. It seemed like ages since she had any real male companionship. For a moment, the mother before my father
had passed away came back to me.
How I missed her infectious laugh and the gleam in her eyes. Just by his presence, Scotty somehow resurrected a side of Mom that died the day my dad took his final breath. When Scotty finally went home for the night, it was as though he took her spirit with him.

***

    
School
was becoming
more intense. At that point, Isabella had us working with live models, and doing everything from theatrical makeup to using prosthetics.

    
Isabella
set a document on our desks
as she walked around the room observing each of us in work mode. “We only have a few short months left. As you remember me telling you on the first day of class, I predicted half of you would drop out. Look around. You will see that I was more than correct. Less than half of you are left.  The rest of you still have a chance to work beside me. I truly hope some of you will sign on with agencies as well. Now is the time to work harder than you ever have in your life. Your project will account for more than fifty percent of your final grade. It will also determine my choice for intern.”

    
The final project required us to we come up with something unique using theatrical, commercial, print, or movie makeup. Finding a subject willing enough to volunteer and be a test subject was imperative. I needed to take photos and document every step. The solution to the problem was simple, and
I knew exactly who I wanted to use.

***

    
I called Scotty
a couple days later
and asked him to come over to the house. Somehow it slipped my mind to tell him about my intentions. I ignored the tug of guilt when he showed up on my doorstep. I assumed he came straight from work since he was still dressed in his business suit.

    
“Take off your coat,” I demanded.

    
“Why?” Scotty asked. “What’s going on?”

    
“I need to use you as my guinea pig for class.”

    
“Does this mean you’re going to put makeup on me?”

    
“Not technically,” I replied, hesitantly.

    
The smile on his face froze. “Oh hell no.”

    
I grabbed his arm just before he was able to walk away. “It’s not the kind of makeup you're thinking of. I’m going to make you look like you were in a deadly car crash and survived. It's for my final project.”

    
“Well, as long as there’s no lipstick involved.”

    
“I promise—no lipstick.”

    
He followed me to my room where I forgot to warn him about what he was going to witness. The blood drained from my face the moment he set foot in my bedroom.

   
“Wow...um...I don’t know what to say,” he said, looking around at all the posters of Carter.

    
“Yeah, I should have warned you.”

    
“Big Aiden Storm fan, huh?”

    
When
I glanced at a poster of a seventeen-year-old Carter holding his
guitar, nostalgia hit me like an unexpected slap in the face.

   
“Once upon a time, believe it or not, I was friends with him—before he got all big and famous.”

   
“Seriously?” Scotty asked. “What was that like?”

    
“Let’s just say he was a very motivated boy, and it paid off,” I said. “I always knew he would make it.”

    
“Do you still talk to him?” Scotty asked.

   
It still hurt to bring up the past. How pathetic
would
I
sound if I told Scotty a day hadn’t gone by where I didn't think about Carter and how much I missed him.

    
“No,” I answered. “Our friendship just sort of ended when he moved away.”

    
I diverted my thoughts by pulling out my makeup kit, and pretended to be unaware of the sudden awkwardness.
I started with the foundation, followed by the prosthetics. The last part consisted of painting on the bruises and gashes. With any luck, no one would recognize Scotty when I got through. At the very least, they’d want to call 911 if they saw him coming. The whole process took about two hours to complete. When I finished, I handed Scotty a mirror.

    
“Damn, girl. What did you do to me?”

    
“Does it look real?” I asked. “Be honest.”

     
He touched a faux open, blistering wound. “If I didn’t know better, I would think I was in some kind of crazy accident, maybe a fight with a lawnmower,” he said. “Alexa, you’re really talented. I had no idea you were this good.”

     
My work still needed practice in order to perfect the final project, but in the meantime, I snapped a couple photos and then gave Scotty permission to wash up. He came back into the room fresh-faced and handsome. I
had been aching
to kiss him all day.
I was quite pleased when he planted
an unexpected smooch on my lips.
We ended up toppling onto my unmade bed.
I cast my inhibitions aside, and
welcomed the feel of his lips gliding down my neck.

    
“Scotty, my mom could be home any minute,” I warned as my body heat soared. “We can’t do this here.”

    
“Do you want me to stop?” Scotty whispered.

    
I didn’t want him to. In fact, I dreamed about going all the way with him since we met.
  
“No—don’t stop.”

    
His
hands continued to travel all over my body
as though he was sculpting clay.
A soft moan escaped me when one of his fingers snaked up underneath my bra and touched my left breast. The sensation was more than electrifying. Whether we might have gotten caught or not, I was ready to be closer with him, to be completely intimate. I pulled off my tank top so that he could have easier access. His lips slid down my stomach and reached my belly button.
As much as all his wonderful kisses and
nibbles left me in ecstasy,
I had to stop him.

    
“Scotty, I have
to tell you something,” I said, with
my body throbbing like it was on fire.

    
Scotty
stopped kissing me and looked up. His hair was a disheveled mess. “What?”
  

    
“Uh…okay. Well I’m sort of a—”

    
He
shot me an incredulous glare and asked, “Sort of a what?”

     It was
humiliating for me to admit
it, especially to a grown man. “You know—” I was hoping I wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

    
“No way.” His eyes lit up in astonishment, like I had just ambushed him. “You’ve never—you’re a virgin?”

    
“You probably think I’m some sort of baby right?” I asked, feeling shot down.

    
“No. I would have never guessed it.” Scotty took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. “You totally caught me off guard
here, I’ll give you that.”

     
“Does that change things between us?” I asked.

    
“Of course it changes things, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you,” he said, lightly kissing my collarbone.

   
   I pushed him back down on the bed.
“Okay, then let’s keep going.”

    
“Wait. Hold up a minute,” he said, clutching one of my wrists.

    
“What’s the problem?”

    
“The problem is—that now that you’ve told me this, I really don’t feel comfortable taking advantage of you in your mother’s house.”

    
I grabbed my top and slid it over my head. “Fine. Suit yourself,” I said, embarrassed to the point of being angry.

    
“Look, there is a time and place for everything, Alexa.” He brushed his lips over the top of my hand and kissed it
softly. “I promise you.”

   
“Well, what now?”

    
“I think it’s best that I get going.  If I stay, we could get into some serious trouble, kid.”

    
I despised nothing more than when he called me “kid.” I was by far not a kid and would prove it. After Scotty left, I started by ripping down all my posters of Carter. I needed to be on Scotty’s level, physically and mentally. The first step to that was dispelling my ridiculously pointless love affair with Carter Storm. No matter how impossible that task seemed to be. 

***

    
I was getting ready to go see Scotty the next evening when Mom approached me. She stood in my bedroom doorway with just a smile on her face.

    
“What’s up?” I asked.

    
Her smile widened and she
said, “I just wanted to come in here and say how proud I am of you—how proud your father would be.”

    
“I’m always going to make you and Dad proud. I promise.”

    
“You’re definitely going to make a name for yourself, and you better keep that boyfriend of yours.”

    
“Yeah, I guess he’s all
right,” I teased.

    
She tucked a few
strands of hair behind my ear, and looked at me lovingly.
“Where are you headed tonight?”

    
“Scotty’s going to make me dinner.”

    
“Oh, how special. Do I hear wedding bells?”

    
“Mom—” I returned to my mirror and applied a dab of blush to my cheeks. “What are you doing
tonight?”

    
“Just
a little late-night grocery shopping.”

    
“I shouldn’t be out late, so we can work on my project when I get home.”

    
“Take your time, honey. Just go have fun.”

***

    
For the first time since we started dating, Scotty invited me over to his apartment. Most of our dates consisted of him picking me up or meeting at a specific location. I told him I was fully capable of coming to see him, so
I drove myself to a secluded part of Newport Beach. He lived in a ritzy
area four miles from the beach where the lush Italian like resort required me to enter a gate code.

    
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Scotty said, pecking my cheek. “It’s good to see you.” The television blared the latest football game, and like a true gentleman,
he instantly shut it off upon my arrival and gave me his full attention.

    
I stepped inside, impressed by the sight of his spacious two-bedroom apartment. The walls were painted the color of
cinnamon, and the place was quiet, cozy, and attractively furnished, decorated with long red curtains and expensive oil paintings. If you asked me, it was exquisite taste for a man.

    
“I love your place.”

    
“Thanks. I’m kind of partial to it myself.” Scotty headed over to the stereo. Smooth jazz filled the air like a fragrant summer breeze. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to cook, but I picked up some Japanese.”

    
I followed him into the kitchen where he grabbed a head of ice berg lettuce, a couple Roma tomatoes, and a dreary-looking carrot from the fridge. He placed the vegetables in the sink and turned on the faucet.