Stay With Me (27 page)

T
HE ART SHOWCASE IS THIS
week, and each student—seven of us total—will have three pieces of art to display. Two can be stuff done in class, and one should be something new. Since I waited until the last possible minute, this means I’m working furiously on what to do. What to draw.

“I vote for a happy face,” Jamie says. “Everyone likes a happy face.”

“Ha ha,” I say. “And no.”

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m over at Caleb’s house to spend a few hours with him. I haven’t really seen him much since I made my decision to do the art showcase. When I told Caleb, he was so excited for me and wrapped me in his arms, whirling me around.

“A flower?” Nick puts in, leaning over to grab some potato chips. “Flowers always work.”

“I already have a flower drawing,” I say. “And the other one is going to be this thing we did when he had us close our eyes to paint.”

Griff munches on a carrot, but doesn’t offer any suggestions.

“You’ll figure it out,” Caleb says. “And it’ll be awesome.”

“I hope so.”

I really do.

T
HE DAYS DWINDLE DOWN. THE
art showcase is tomorrow, and sheet after sheet has been tossed aside. Trash. Stupid. Horrible. What was I thinking? Why did I agree to do this? Maybe it’s not too late to cancel. To pull out. I could get a stomach flu. I could just
not
do it.

Because everything I’ve attempted has been crap. It hasn’t been good enough. It’s been sucky.

I cancel dinner with Caleb. I don’t take Daphne’s call or answer Kate’s emails. I have to focus.

The intercom buzzes.
Ugh!
So not what I need right now.

“Yeah?” I ask sharply.

“It’s me,” Caleb says.

“I’m busy.”

“Have you eaten?”

My stomach grumbles. “No.”

“Let me in. I have Chinese.”

Mmmm. Chinese. I buzz him in and then wait for him by the door.

I’m not waiting long, and he enters, carrying Chinese takeout.

“How’s it coming along?” he asks, setting the Chinese down on the kitchen table.

“Not good.” I take the chicken lo mein and scoop some onto a plate. “I’m stuck.”

“You’ll get unstuck.”

I toy with the noodles. “I’m not so sure. This was a bad idea.”

“Hailey.”

“It was,” I say. “I’m totally going to suck, and everyone is going to hate it.”

“Stop. You’re having doubts. That’s normal.”

“I’ve stared at my sketchpad for the whole day, and I still have nothing to show for it. It’s like . . .”

“It’s like what?”

“It’s like I just can’t see it. That I’m frozen or something.”

“You’re still scared,” he says. “Stop being scared. Stop doubting yourself.”

“Let me just wave that magic wand.”

Caleb laughs. “Maybe you just need to relax a little. Maybe you’re too focused on needing it to be perfect that you’re blocking yourself.”

That does have some merit.

“Maybe.” I frown at the food, then glance up at him. “Caleb. Thank you.”

“For the food?”

“That, and for this. The talk.” I sigh. “I can get crazy in my head—with the doubts and the worrying.”

“Yeah, but lucky for you, I like your type of crazy.”

I swat him on the shoulder. “Be careful, or I’ll Picasso your face into a drawing and give you three cocks.”

“Why, Hailey, you kinky girl.”

I laugh at him.

I
T COMES TO ME.

Early.

Grey light.

Filtered stars.

Music dancing along the water.

Guitar strings.

Bold splashes of color.

Pastel. Swirls of light.

The dark . . . the dark blazoned out by a gleam of light. So bright. So warm, and glowing.

Two.

Duality.

Past and present.

Then and now.

Reconciling what used to be to what is now.

Daring toward something new.

Flying . . . flying off a ledge into an abyss.

Where far below . . .

There’s a soft place to fall.

Chapter 33

I
T’S THE NIGHT OF THE
art showcase, and my nerves, as expected, are out in full force. I opted to wear dressy black pants, a light blue shirt, and a cute little cardigan that has a starburst of sequins along the back. I wear my long hair loose and wavy down my back, and keep my makeup natural with berry-stained lips.

I’m not expecting to have oohs and ahhs over my art, but I just hope Caleb likes what I’ve done.

And that what I did was done well.

When I handed Professor Rodrigo my art this morning, he didn’t say anything but his usual, “Mmmm.”

So. Yeah. No clue whatsoever. Maybe it sucks. Maybe not. It’s frustrating not to know.

Caleb pulls into a parking spot at Green College. “Ready?”

No. Maybe.

“Yes,” I say.

His touch anchors me as we walk up to the theatre entrance. The event isn’t crowded, but there are enough people there that my heart pounds furiously in my chest. I lick my lips nervously.

“It’s totally going to be okay,” Caleb says. “Breathe.”

I heave out a breath and nod my head to him. “Be honest. Even if you hate it.”

“I won’t hate it.”

I stop him just as we’re about to pull open the second set of doors and step inside. “I mean it, Caleb. No sugarcoating.”

“I won’t,” he says.

We step inside and head to the room where the showcase is. I’m the only freshman featured—the rest are juniors and seniors. So I don’t know any of the other students, and their work blows mine out of the water. The experience and hard talent shows in a blown glass world, in the iron structure of a barren tree, in the paintings on the wall.

Mine are less experienced, less done . . . but there is something there. Something that if it were to develop could become something better. I’m proud of what I did. Of what I made. I hope everyone else is, too.

“It’s amazing,” Caleb says. “Really. Hailey. I love it.”

I lean against him. “So do I.”

“T
HERE’S SOMETHING I HAVE TO
do,” I say, after we leave the showcase. Professor Rodrigo never said if he liked or didn’t like what I’d done, only that he hoped to see me in an art class next semester.

“What’s that?” Caleb asks, taking a right out of the college and heading to his place.

“We’ll have to go to my apartment,” I say. “It’s back there. It’s a surprise.”

Caleb glances over at me. “Unlike you, I love surprises.”

I don’t say anything for the rest of the short ride, my heart beating so fast in my chest, my palms a little sweaty. I unlock my apartment door, letting us both in.

“Just sit there,” I say, pointing to the couch. “Please.”

“Okay,” he says, looking at me weird. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. Just . . . don’t move.”

I don’t wait for his answer but hurry to my bedroom to find what I’m looking for.

I come back out.

His dark green eyes widen. “Hailey. Are you . . .”—he swallows thickly—“are you sure?”

“Positive,” I say, sitting on a nearby chair and laying the guitar in the correct position. “I haven’t played in a while. I might be a little rusty.”

“You—”

“I want to,” I say.

I was always better expressing myself through music. I’m hoping that holds true tonight.

I strum my fingers against the guitar strings. “It’s a little out of tune . . .”

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s perfect.”

“There,” I say, tuning it to what it should be. “Caleb. This one is for you.”

And then I start to sing:

Stay

All I want to do is stay

With you

All through the day

All through the night

All through each and every waking second

I want to

Stay

With you

Your eyes

See right into me

Your touch

Seeps right to me

Your lips

Kiss right on me

So deep, so true

You

Stay

With me

All through the day

All through the night

All through each and every waking second

I want you to

Stay

With me

Your love

Is always

With me

Filling me, being with me

Two hearts, beating

Stay

I say

Stay

With me

Because . . .

I stop.

I don’t need the music.

Not for this.

“Caleb.” I pause, not because I’m hesitating. Not because I’m wondering. Not because I’m unsure.

Not because of anything, but because I want to get this right. Because he deserves
all
of me.

And I’m giving him all of me right now.

I love him.

Truly. Forever. Always.

There was no dawning realization for me, no moment when I was walking one minute and then in the next, I was struck with the realization. It’s just . . .

I love him.

I love everything about him.

There’s no rhyme or reason. It’s just love.

Love just . . . is.

Opening myself up to all that could be, to embrace everything—no matter what—left my heart wide, open, and there it was the whole time.

Three little words that mean so much.

Three little words that I thought would be the hardest to say, actually fall easily from my lips.

“I love you.”

Chapter 34

“W
HAT DID YOU SAY?”

“I love you,” I say.

Caleb gets up and walks to me.

I stand, holding my guitar in my right hand, and feel my heart leap in my chest.

“Say that again.”

“I love you,” I say. “I love you.”

“Again,” he whispers, his hands on my face, his green eyes capturing mine.

I can’t look away from all that love I see in his gaze; I don’t want to. He loves me—completely.

“I love you.” I set my guitar down and press my hands over his. Caleb’s fingers tremble against my cheeks. “I love you, Caleb Eros Fox. I love you, love you, love you.”

He touches his forehead to mine, breathing deep. “Hailey.”

“I love you,” I say again. “Caleb. I love you so much. I . . . I started believing in
me
. Because of you. You are
everything
to me.”

“Hailey,” he says, and all the love in the world is in those two syllables of my name. “I hoped. I hoped so much. I love you.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up.”

“You’re here now. Loving me.” His breath catches, his eyes going wide with the wonder of it. “You really love me.”

“So much,” I say, my heart so full of love that reaches into every fiber of my being. “So very much.”

Caleb tilts my head up, his gaze tender on mine. “And, Hailey, I would wait forever for you. You’re
my
everything.”

I start to cry, tears spilling over my cheeks. “I never thought this could happen. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, either.” He wipes my tears away, catching more. “But you walked out onto that deck, so shiny, so bright.”

“And you were all dark and mysterious in the shadows.” I frown, remembering how I wanted to leave that party all those months ago, full of people who only saw the Hollywood persona I’d been for so many years. All my life really. They had never seen the real me. “I must have looked lost. Confused. Scared.”

“No,” he says. “You obviously wanted to get away. I did, too. But you were just so full of energy and life. Like, you didn’t know what was going to happen, but you were determined to figure it out. And I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to know more. I thought I blew it with you. That night and then again the next day.”

“You didn’t. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he says, smiling. “I didn’t know you then. But I wanted to. And, God, thank God, for surprises. Because, you, Hailey, are the best surprise ever.”

My voice catches. “Caleb.”

“I’m so glad you came here, Hailey. So very, very glad. You are my every heartbeat, and I love you.”

Caleb kisses me, and his mouth is sweet upon mine, the kisses a beat of a heart, and there’s love in every touch.

He takes me in his arms, sweeping me up, and carries me into the bedroom.

His kisses are hot against my mouth, his tongue licking at me, sliding into my mouth. I love his kisses. I could get drunk on them. Soft, tender love bites on my lips that turn slow and languorous. He kisses me so deeply, loving in every sweep of his tongue. His teeth catch my lower lip, tugging gently.

I let out a moan, and he captures it with his mouth. Carrying me away in a hot kiss that melts all the bones in my body and fries my brain.

I want him so much. So completely.

“Let me love you,” he says. “Let me.”

Caleb takes off my clothing, piece by slow piece. My pants are slowly inched down my legs, landing on my floor. My cardigan inched down my arms and tossed to the window. My shirt dragged torturously over my head, the beading snagging on my hair, which causes a brief moment of brevity as Caleb stops to help unsnag my wavy strands for the sequins.

I’m in my bra and underwear.

“Your turn,” I say, kneeling.

I reach to the top button of his shirt. And slowly, very slowly, slide the button free.

I repeat this slow process to the second button.

The third.

The fourth.

I’m on the fifth, not even halfway down his shirt, when he places his hands over mine, stopping me.

“Hurry.”

“Can’t take the torture?”

Caleb leans down, nipping the curve of my neck. “No.”

I rip the rest of his shirt off, buttons flying, and push it down his hard, muscled arms.

I lean forward to kiss his nipple, laving it with my tongue, and then catch it between my teeth.

“Hailey,” he says, his hand going to the back of my head. “I—”

“Shh,” I say. “Let me love you, too.”