Falling (Fading Series) (17 page)

She looks over at me and narrows her eyes, like she’s questioning what the real meaning is to that statement, but she goes ahead and gives me a response. “We’ve always been close. He’s like my family.”

“It’s good that you have someone like that.”

She doesn’t speak as we continue to make our way through campus, jogging up the stairs as we leave the quad. We take the rest of the run through the surrounding neighborhoods with nothing more than random small talk before I drop her off back at her house and head home.

Something was clearly bothering Candace yesterday when we met up for our morning run, so when I call to see if she wants to grab a bite to eat before I head into work tonight, I’m surprised when she easily agrees.

I meet up with her at the sushi-go-round restaurant close to my loft. She looks a lot better than she did yesterday morning, and I smile as we sit down.

“You ever been here before?” I ask when we start picking our plates off of the carousel.

“A couple times. Mark likes this place.”

“You coming to see him tonight?” I ask, knowing that she’s never come to the bar to hear his band play.

She shakes her head as she plucks her sushi up with her chopsticks and takes a bite. When she’s done, she says, “I’ll see him after.”

“After?”

“I’m staying with Jase tonight. So I’ll see Mark for a little while before he goes home.”

“You spend a lot of nights with him?” I ask, and when she looks up at me, she defends, “It’s not weird or anything.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“We’ve always been this way,” she tells me.

“What way’s that?”

“Close.”

I’m a little confused as to why she spends nights with him, but I don’t push the subject anymore. It’s not my place to question, so I drop it.

Changing the subject, I ask, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Why?”

Grabbing another plate of sushi before it passes, I tell her, “Didn’t know if you wanted to get in another run.”

She doesn’t say anything as she turns her attention to her food and starts eating. She’s uncomfortable, so I add, “Wanna?”

“I have to work in the morning.”

“After?”

Looking over at me, she nods and says, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Satisfied with her response, we grab a few more plates and finish up our dinner.

“Sorry I’ve gotta run, but I haven’t been working much lately, and I need to get a few things done,” I explain as we head outside, and I walk her to her car.

“It’s okay,” she says as she unlocks her door and then turns to face me.

I want to touch her, hug her, anything, but nothing about her is telling me that it’s okay as she turns back around to open her door, and before I can even try to do anything, she’s in her seat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and I wonder if I’m ever gonna get her to let me in.

When I walk into Common Grounds, I don’t see Candace, but quickly notice her boss eying me. She’s obvious and doesn’t even try and hide it. I walk over to the counter where she’s standing with her indigo hair, and for some reason, it totally works on her.

“Candace here?” I ask.

“Mmm hmm,” she playfully hums as she turns away from me and walks into the back.

She pops back out after a couple minutes and says, “She said to give her ten minutes and she’ll be out.”

I nod my head and scan the tats on her arm, asking, “Who does your work?”

“Place next door. My boyfriend works over there.”

“That’s convenient,” I tease.

“My thoughts exactly,” she says with a hint of indecency, and I have to laugh at her vibrant personality. “You got any?”

“Yeah,” I say as I lift the sleeve of my t-shirt to show her the half-sleeve I got a few years back. My mother’s favorite flower is the peony, so I have an almost cryptic interpretation of one surrounded by shaded water with the words, ‘Struggles are not identities,’ woven through the art.

“Nice,” she says as she moves her eyes over it, noting the details. “Any others?”

“No,” I lie. I have another, but I keep it private and don’t ever mention it to people if they ask. “How long did it take you to get all those?” I ask about the full colorful sleeves that run down the length of her arms.

“Here and there for a few years,” she says when I notice Candace out of the corner of my eye.

“Hey.”

“What are you guys talking about?” she asks as she walks over to me.

“Your friend, Ryan, was asking about my tattoos,” Roxy tells her.

Walking towards Candace, who is already in her running gear, I ask, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to put my bag in my car.”

I take the bag out of her hand, and she turns to Roxy to say bye as I start heading out.

Candace is quiet while she listens to me talk about work. She asks a few questions along the way, and I end up venting about some of my aggravation with a couple of the staff that I had to get rid of the other night. But when the conversation shifts to Mark and his band, we start talking about music. When I ask her what some of her favorite bands are, I’m surprised to hear that they sync right up with mine.

We eventually weave into my neighborhood, which is only a couple blocks from her house. We both live right outside Fremont, which Jase’s apartment is in the heart of. Candace stops talking for a while, and when I look down at her, I can see she’s struggling a bit with her breathing.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I’m thirsty. We forgot water.”

“No worries,” I tell her, knowing that my loft is at the end of the street we’re on. When we get close, I slow down and start walking up my drive.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and when I look back, she’s standing in the middle of my drive—anxious.

“Getting you some water. Come on,” I say, trying to act like her being here shouldn’t be a big deal, but by the way she’s hesitantly walking towards me, I can tell that it is for her.

Pulling out my keys, I click the fob and open the garage.

“Do you own this building or something?” she asks, not registering that this is my place, and I guess I can’t blame her because it’s a three-story loft—much bigger than one person should need.

“This is my loft. I live here,” I say with a grin.

“Oh,” she breathes and then stops in her tracks, no longer following me. She doesn’t want to be here, but I want her here. She shifts uncomfortably before walking into my garage and following me up the stairs to the door.

When we walk inside, she stays in the living room while I head straight to the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water.

“Here you go,” I say as I walk back to her and hand her one.

She takes a big gulp before saying, “This is a great place. How long have you lived here?”

“About five years.” I watch as she moves her eyes around my space, taking it in.

My phone begins to ring, and when I see it’s Max, I answer.

“Hey.”

“Ryan, Michael’s a no-show. Said he has shit going on at home.”

“Hold on a sec,” I tell him and look over to Candace. “Make yourself comfortable. I need to take this call really quick. I’ll only be a few minutes, okay?”

She smiles at me, and I head back to my office, closing the door behind me.

“Okay, I’m back,” I tell him.

“Where are you at?”

“My place. Why?”

“Who are you telling to get comfortable?” he inquires, implying I’m trying to get laid.

“Candace,” I tell him honestly.

“Who?”

“That girl I told you about,” I explain.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks, knowing damn well that I don’t ever hang out with girls and that I have never even been interested in anything more than a passing screw.

“Nothing,” I shrug off, not wanting to leave her in the other room alone for too long. “I’ll be there in a few hours, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he says before hanging up.

Walking back out into the living room, I find Candace kneeling down, looking at some of my mattes that are stacked against the wall. Stepping next to her, she looks up at me.

“I’m sorry,” she says as she puts the mattes down and stands up.

“For what?”

“I wasn’t snooping or anything, I just noticed these and was curious,” she nervously explains.

“Candace, I have nothing to hide. I told you to make yourself comfortable, and I meant it.” I take a seat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs and drink my water.

“Where did you get those?”

“They’re mine,” I tell her.

“Yours?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I get bored and like to mess around with my camera.”

“That’s pretty amazing for just messing around,” she says as she continues to stand against the large panoramic window. “You only shoot people?”

“For the most part, yeah.” I get up and walk over to the photos and pick up the one lying on the top. It’s the shot I took of Gina. It’s a nice photo, but makes me almost feel guilty for having it. For spending so much time working on it, only to have Candace admire it.

“She a model?” she asks as she looks at the photo with me.

“No, just some chick I used to know.” I toss the matte down and motion for her to sit with me on the couch, and when she does, she continues, “So, when did you get into photography?”

“When I was in college I took some art classes. So, one day I just decided to buy a camera and started taking pictures. Like I said, I pretty much have no clue what I’m doing. Just a little hobby of mine I mess around with every now and then.”

“You ever do anything with them?” she asks.

“No.”

I watch her as she begins to relax, getting more comfortable the longer she’s here. Having her here in my space—I like it.

“Maybe you should,” she encourages, and when I look into her eyes, I’m at a loss for words, so I simply repeat hers, “Maybe I should.”

We sit here for a few moments without speaking. I don’t pull my eyes away from hers, and when I see the nervous shift in her, I cut the intensity and ask, “You sure you don’t want to come out to the bar tonight to see Mark play?”

Taking a deep breath and looking down, she says, “I told you, I have to work.”

“I just picked you up from work.”

“I know, but I have to go back. One of the girls quit and Roxy hasn’t hired anyone to replace her, so I’ve been picking up extra shifts,” she explains. “Plus, I’d probably be tired and no fun to be around.”

“I can’t imagine it not being fun to be around you,” I admit much too honestly, and when she shifts her eyes to look out the window, I take her cue and ask, “You ready to finish the run?”

Standing up, I reach out for her hand. She doesn’t take it at first, but when I smile down at her, she slips her hand into mine. I keep a strong hold on it as I lock up and we head out.

When we get outside and to the end of my driveway, I still have her hand. This is the longest she’s ever let me touch her.