Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) (13 page)

Twenty minutes later, I’ve guided Gavin to my parents’ house. I’m relieved that I can finally get out of the car, because I haven’t really calmed down yet.

“When are you coming tomorrow?” he asks.

“I’ll be at your place around one o’clock,” I reply as I open the door. “See you.” When I’m finally out in the fresh air, I suck it in like I’m drowning. I’m feeling totally nauseated since Gavin demonstrated his lead-foot driving technique.

He gets out of the car. “Is everything OK?” he asks, sounding worried.

“I’ll be OK, somehow.” I support myself on the stone bannister of the front steps that lead to the door, and close my eyes.

Gavin puts a hand on my back. “Lane?”

“It’s really OK, I think,” I reassure him patiently.

He turns me carefully so I’m facing him. “You’re paler than Snow White.”

“Considering how you drive, it’s no wonder,” I murmur, and take another deep breath.

“I’ll bring you in, OK?”

I shake my head and turn toward the door, setting one foot carefully after the other on the stairs. “That’s not necessary.”

He comes to my side. “Don’t mess around, Lane, let me bring you up, and then at least I’ll know that you didn’t pass out on the way. Just let me help you,” he says determinedly, as he stops me and lifts me into his arms.

“OK,” I say in a small voice, because I don’t have another choice.

“If I’d known it would make you sick, I would never have driven so fast.”

“I’m not sick . . . I just had a panic attack, which is still hanging on a little,” I reply, and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Do you have your keys in your bag?” His voice sounds worried.

“Yes.”

“In the handbag or the duffle bag?”

“Handbag.”

Gavin lowers me to my feet in front of the door, and he holds me tightly while he digs for the keys. “You’re swaying, Lane.”

“I am not,” I argue, even though I feel a little dizzy. It feels like being seasick, even though I wasn’t anywhere near the water. I guess I’m a little carsick, but I’m definitely not swaying. Maybe he thinks so because he’s pushing me back and forth. First he holds me with his left arm to search my handbag for the keys, and then in the right, to open the door. Then he picks me up again.

“Gavin, I think I can walk by myself.”

“Safe is safe. Where’s your room?” he asks.

“Up the stairs, and left at the end of the hall.”

He carries me in and up the stairs. I have the feeling he’s looking around very carefully, but maybe just to orient himself. Or maybe he’s curious.

When we reach my room, he sets me down on my bed. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re very pale, you’re swaying; it seems like you’ll collapse any moment,” he says, convinced.

“It’s really fine, Gavin. You . . . can go, if you want.”

“If I want? And what if I want to stay?”

My eyes go wide. “Do you want to stay?”

“Was that an invitation?” He grins.

“Umm . . .”

“Thanks, then I’d love to stay.” He sits down next to me. “I’m really sorry I yelled at you before, but your behavior toward me is incredibly frustrating.”

“I behave professionally,” I whisper, as I let myself fall back onto the bed.

“You behave distantly.”

“Why do you think that is?” I say with a touch of sarcasm.

Gavin lets himself fall onto his back. “I’ve tried more than once today to come closer to you.”

“When did that happen? I wasn’t aware of it, Gavin.”

“Do you seriously want to know?”

I nod. “Then at least I’ll know when I wasn’t being very observant.”

He rolls onto his side, and bends over me, looking at me attentively. “You have wonderful brown eyes, did you know that?”

“No, but thanks.”

“And your blonde hair is a dream, too.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m listing the good points.”

“I don’t have any.”

“You have a lot of them, Lane,” Gavin whispers, and kisses my cheek.

I turn my head away, because the temptation he’s radiating is way too strong for me.

“What I know of you won’t go out of my head anymore, Lane,” he whispers, stroking my cheek with his finger. He strokes my lower jaw, pulling my face toward him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because . . . it wouldn’t be a very good idea.”

He slowly raises his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Because that’s the way it is.”

“And the reason?” With every word he’s coming closer, and I just stare at him.

“We . . . We’re not harmonious.”

He stops, maybe one centimeter from my lips. “How do you mean that?”

“You . . . get around a lot. Do you know what I mean? And I don’t,” I answer, still breathing heavily. This guy makes me totally flustered. I’d really like to . . .
Can’t we just lock up my damn libido and throw away the key?

“You think I get around a lot? Just because Azer believes I would fuck anything that isn’t tied down? I’m surprised you put so much faith in his opinion,” he says skeptically.

“Yeah . . . More because you really do travel a lot, and I think you must have plenty of encounters with girls and . . . your groupies,” I say in a small voice.

“Do you want to know what kinds of encounters I have with girls? None, because I’m the only one in the band who usually doesn’t go out, because I need to recharge my batteries by sitting with a book in front of the fireplace, or by going to sleep. I think you have no idea how much energy my job takes, always being fully present on stage and for the media. I ‘got around a lot’ at the beginning, but that’s years ago now. Now I’m a lot more serious, and I never take a girl to my room who I don’t have any feelings for!”

I suddenly feel a stab of guilt—it’s like a paper cut that’s been doused with alcohol to disinfect the wound. At first you don’t notice it, but then . . .

“I felt something for you immediately—not love, but definitely affection, and I still feel that way.”

I’m really not made for relationships, but how can I tell him that? Before I open myself up for something new, I always have to find closure with the past. With Jonah, with Brooke, and simply with everything that was ever hard for me. I doubt that Gavin would understand that.

“Say something,” he whispers, looking at me pleadingly.

I close my eyes to hide the tears that are threatening to overflow. The last thing I want is to show weakness. “Could you please just leave?” I whisper.

“Why?” His voice sounds sad.

I slide out from underneath him and stand up, then turn to face him. “Because it’s incredibly difficult for me to stay calm in your company! I can’t . . .” I take a couple of panicked breaths. “I’m . . .” I try again, and give up. “We just don’t fit together!”

“You can’t what? What are you trying to say?” he asks with annoyance.

“I can’t feel anything. I’m totally numb. And I’m not capable of having a relationship with you, if that’s what you want.” Now the tears come for real.
There you go again, you damn drama queen,
I tell myself.

Gavin looks at me skeptically as he stands up. “I know you’re lonely, and I know what happened to you. Macey . . . told me quite a lot when I was talking to her after her show. I’m really sorry that your best friend killed herself. And I’m sorry your ex ditched you at such a difficult time. But I’m not like him. I would never leave just because things got difficult.”

I swallow a lump that’s sticking in my throat.
Macey . . . That goddamn little snitch!
I wanted to have some fun, and she was the one who suggested I enjoy being single, and now this!

“Don’t look at me like I just slapped you, Lane.”

“Well, that’s how it feels,” I stammer and take a step back as he tries to close the distance between us. “I’m really sorry, I feel nothing for you.” These lies are going to kill me someday.

He steps forward again and pulls me into his arms. “I don’t believe you. Would you have slept with me again if you had no feelings for me? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about me at all since then. Don’t pretend you don’t care about me.”

“Gavin, we’re just too different. You don’t have any worries, and I do.”

“Why are you worried?”

“Because I live hand to mouth, always looking for the next job, always with the fear that I won’t be able to pay my rent the next month,” I answer, as I try to slip out of his embrace.

“And you think I don’t understand that? Do you know what a musician has to go through before he ‘makes it’? It’s no different than a dancer’s life. Besides, I’m certainly not going to let you go, Lane,” he whispers, and he sounds very determined. “First I want to hear you say that you don’t care about me, while you’re looking into my eyes.”

I don’t want to lie anymore—I’m so tired of it. On the other hand, I’m terrified of making myself vulnerable. I’ve really had enough of being some guy’s toy. I want to be the one who chooses for a change, but this Adonis is threatening to topple my façade. I take a deep breath for another lie, but the words won’t come out.

Gavin looks at me piercingly. “I knew it.” He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. He looks at me intensely for the time it takes us to breathe once, and then kisses me tenderly.

I sigh as the tip of his tongue pushes against my lips, and I open to him. But I don’t want this to go any further, and I turn my head away. “It won’t work.”

“What’s keeping you from letting me come closer to you?” he asks softly.

The sound of his hoarse voice sends shivers down my back. “Fear.”

His gaze intensifies. “Why are you scared? What are you scared of?”

I want to put some distance between us, but he holds me tightly. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I still feel invaded.

“Of . . . myself, and above all of you,” I stammer.

“I’m not giving up,” he whispers, and finally lets me go. He stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lane.” He’s barely finished the sentence when he exits the room. All I can do is watch him leave.

A few minutes later, I’ve pulled myself together and I go into the bathroom. I turn on the tap in the tub, filling the room with hot steam, and undress. Then I slide into the tub and close my eyes.

Chapter 9

I haven’t dared leave my room since I got out of the bathtub. My parents were probably out, since I didn’t hear them coming home, despite my open door. I did, however, go to bed early, since I was completely worn out. The last thing I did was call Paxton to talk about this morning’s events. Why did Gavin do that? Maybe it would be best to call off the dance show. But that would make it difficult to get by in the next few months.

I’m standing in front of Paxton’s door, waiting for him to open it. I’ve brought everything we’ll need for breakfast. Since I know he likes a hearty breakfast, it’s a lot. For myself I only brought some granola.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to you,” he says with a smile as he opens the door.

“Hey,” I reply with a giggle. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m just in a really good mood,” Paxton says, looking at me curiously. “And what’s up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I step past him into his apartment. “I’m fine.”

“Lane,” he sighs.

“Where’s the kitchen?” I ask, dodging his disapproval.

Pax closes the door, swings around, and grabs my arm. “So, what’s up?” he questions me as we walk down a long hallway.

“Gavin.”

“Is he the guy from yesterday who was so rude?”

“Um, yeah.”

“And why is he what’s up?”

I sigh. “Well, three weeks ago or so, we met, went out together, had sex, and then broke up over a fight without really having had a relationship. The day before yesterday, I heard that I’ll be replacing a colleague on
Celebrity Dance Hall
because she hurt herself; then yesterday I was suddenly face to face with him. He brought me home after we were here, and then something pretty confusing happened . . . All I wanted was to have some fun with him, but I didn’t expect him to stick around in my head like this. On the other hand, my last relationship went to pieces not so long ago, and a friend of mine killed herself, which is why I really can’t deal with anything new right now since I haven’t processed those things yet,” I ramble without so much as a breath in between the words, and I sit down on a chair that Pax pushes me down onto.

“Whoa, there. Sounds like a pretty complicated story and a complicated life you’re leading,” he says, sitting down across from me.

I put my elbows on the table and lean my head on my hand. “My life is such a melodrama.”

Pax gets up again to set the table. “Why did your last boyfriend break up with you?”

“That’s a long story that sounds pretty simple in the short version: it turned out to be too much for him. He couldn’t be there for me when I needed him most.”

He nods as he takes the bread rolls from my hands. “Sounds like a real scumbag.”

“He wasn’t really that scummy. He was probably overwhelmed by the fact that I was mourning my best friend.”

“And you still are, Lane, that much is clear.”

I lower my gaze, then nod curtly.

Pax comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “That kind of thing takes time to work out.”

“How do you know?”

“My dad died two years ago, and I’m still mourning him.”

“Does it ever stop hurting?” I ask quietly.

“No. It’s always going to hurt, but you’ll stop crying someday. You learn to live with it,” he murmurs and crouches down next to me. “I know the two of us . . . That was ages ago, and I’m not trying to make a move on you or anything, but if you need to talk, then you know my door is always open for you, OK?”

“Thanks, Pax.” I let him pull me in for a hug and close my eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad, he was a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, he was, but he was sick, too.”

“What was it?”

“Pancreatic cancer. Within a week of the diagnosis he lost extreme amounts of weight and died.”

“Oh, crap!”

“Yeah, it was unbelievably crappy, but I’m glad he didn’t have to suffer long.”

In that moment we’re there to comfort each other, and I’m glad that I met Pax again. I’ve often wondered which way he went after high school, and now I know. And yet it surprises me. He wanted to be a lawyer, but his family was always low on money. “Why did you stay here?”

“My grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship, and I couldn’t pay for college myself,” he answers as he detaches himself from me.

“But you could have found a good job, back then,” I say, surprised.

“I could have, had I not been so stupid as to not even apply anywhere.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“I like the job with John, and as soon as I’ve saved up enough money, I’ll enroll in a correspondence course for my degree.” He smiles and looks down at the table. “Are you honestly eating that rabbit food for breakfast?”

“I’m going to rehearsal later, which is why I’m only having something light today,” I say.

“I’ll get milk . . . Do you drink coffee, too?”

“Absolutely. I’ve already had two cups, or I wouldn’t even have made it here.”

Pax laughs quietly. “You were always a coffeeholic.”

“Some things never change.”

He gets out milk and cups, then the coffeepot. “Good thing I already made some.” He sets the pot down on the table and takes a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer. He sets down both things in front of me before sitting back down in his chair.

“Thanks,” I say cheerfully while preparing my cereal.

“This Gavin lives here in the Hamptons, or is he from somewhere else?”

“He lives here, but I guess he grew up in Miami,” I reply. “Or wait a minute, his friends are from Miami, but he’s from Orlando.”

“So he’s a Floridian,” Pax states with amusement.

“Yeah.” I start eating my breakfast.

“Do you like him?”

I choke on my granola and have to cough before I can answer. “I like him, but,” I gasp, “I really can’t deal with a relationship right now.” I’m shaken by another coughing fit, which is why Pax gets up to thump me on the back. “You all right?” he asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” I answer hoarsely and take a gulp of coffee.

Pax sits back down and looks at me. “So, if you like this guy, why don’t you give him a chance, or rather . . . why don’t you just enjoy that somebody cares about you? It’s not like you have to dive right into this relationship. Which, honestly, would be kind of a stupid thing to do since you barely know each other. But Lane, you need to start listening to your heart more, and less to your head. I guess in that respect you haven’t really changed much,” he says sympathetically.

“But if he ends up hurting me . . .”

He tilts his head and regards me with a frown. “What if, tomorrow, your roof falls in on you? What if a plane crashes right on the spot you happened to park your car? There’s never a guarantee for anything in life . . . But at least you’ll know that you’re going to be happy for a while.”

“And then I’ll be hurt for an even longer while,” I mumble into my cereal bowl.

“What are you scared of?” he pushes, which makes me feel pressured again. Gavin asked me the very same thing yesterday, and I gave him a completely crazy answer.

“Of me and of him. Of me, because I know I won’t be able to deal with it if it goes wrong again. Him, because he’s a goddamn celebrity who probably has ten women wrapped around each finger, but he wants me . . . at the moment. What if he’s on tour and I’m back home and he can’t help himself?” I want to know.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you. But I think you’ve lost me. Are you in love, or do you just like him?”

“I think I’m stuck somewhere between the two feelings.” So now it’s out. Finally!

“So that means you get the tingles when you see him.”

“That means I feel like a stupid grinning schoolgirl every time I see him.”

Pax laughs quietly. “You’re crushing on him
so
hard.”

I shake my head with a smile over his amusement, trying to hide my blushing cheeks. “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Not true.”

“Sure.”

“Cut it out, Pax!”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, raising his hands in front of his chest defensively.

I laugh out loud. “Oh no, nothing. You’re . . . just teasing me because I’m crushing like a schoolgirl.”

“Hey, that schoolgirl used to crush on me, too. What’s so bad about that?”

“You’re right.”

Pax nods gravely while finally getting back to his breakfast. We talk about our school days, about what became of our old friends, and about our plans for the future. It feels good to talk to somebody who has known me since kindergarten. As it happens, Pax was with me during all the important milestones in my life. He was the first one to congratulate me on getting accepted to Juilliard. We were both in New York back then, and during dancing tryouts, he waited for me by the door. I was seventeen then. Despite our failed relationship—could you call it that in your teens?—we stayed friends, even though we drifted apart after a while. But deep inside, we knew that we’d always be there for each other. It’s incredible how close we still are after so long. I’ve even managed to get all my grief about Brooke’s death off my chest. It still hurts, but if there’s somebody who can understand me now, it’s Paxton. He explains to me how he distracted himself after his father’s death. He gives me suggestions on how to deal with it. Since her funeral, I haven’t been to the cemetery, because I don’t want the grave to be my last image of her. I want to keep on seeing her laugh when I close my eyes, not a heart carved out of black marble lying on a patch of lawn.

For me, she’s not lying underground in a coffin. I cannot and will not accept that. Now and then, tears fill my eyes as I talk, and I push them away bravely, even though Pax tells me I need to let them out. But I can’t yet. What I can do, though, is change the subject, because talking about Brooke still hurts. It felt good, it was liberating to talk about her, but at some point I feel so depressed I really need to talk about something different. Something nice, or it’ll keep dragging me down further and further. Even though it’s rude, I keep looking at my watch because I have to catch the bus to Gavin’s.

“Are you pressed for time?”

I blink rapidly. “I’m sorry?”

“You keep glancing at your watch . . . Do you have to go somewhere?”

“We’ve been talking for over two and a half hours now. I need to get to rehearsal now. First I have four hours with Gavin, and then two with Jonah, because we’ll be dancing in the show on Saturday,” I reply.

“Are there going to be tickets for that?” he inquires.

“I can get you some if you want.”

“One is fine, I’m not bringing anybody.”

“Maybe you could go with Macey.”

“Who’s she?” he asks curiously.

“She’s my other best friend. But I don’t know yet if she has a performance of her own on Saturday because she’s on Broadway.”

“Is she an actress?”

“Yeah, an actress and singer. Right now she’s in
Beauty and the Beast
.”

“I can go alone. You don’t have to set me up with one of your friends.” Pax grins at me.

“That wasn’t the plan, I just didn’t want you to have to hang around alone.”

“Aren’t your parents coming?” he asks.

“Sure, they’re coming, too.”

“Then I’ll just sit with them.”

“All right, that’s fine then,” I reply cheerfully.

“Shall I bring you to rehearsal?”

My lips stretch into a wide smile as I nod. “That would be really sweet of you.”

Pax gets up. “If you help me clear the table, we can leave sooner.”

I jump up and start helping him.

“I’ve never seen anybody so eager to tidy up.” He laughs.

“I don’t feel like taking the bus.” I grin at him while I put the cold cuts back in the fridge.

Pax picks up the plates. “Would you like to meet on Saturday after the show?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You might be pretty knocked out.”

“I’d like to have some distraction after all that. We could go out in Manhattan, or somewhere around here.”

“Ryker opened up a club here last year. It’s right by the beach.”

“A club, huh?”

“Well, it’s a mix. It’s a restaurant upstairs and a club downstairs. He hosts a lot of beach parties, and I think there’s one scheduled for this Saturday.”

“I’d like to get a look at that.”

Pax nods as I glance at him. “So, what do you think? Want to go with me?”

“I’d love to.” I close the fridge door with a push of my hip.

“Shall we drive back from the city together?”

“Sure.”

“Great, that means all I need now is . . .”

“What do you need?” I ask with a grin.

“I need to pick up an outfit for Saturday. I haven’t gone out in ages, and because of my workouts I’ve gained some muscle, so my fancy shirts don’t fit anymore,” he admits.

I laugh out loud. “If you want, we can go shopping together tomorrow after work.”

“And you’d really advise me?” he asks, visibly surprised.

“Why not?” I reply, bemused. “Friends can go shopping together, can’t they?”

“Can men and women be friends? Most people say that’s impossible,” he tells me.

I tilt my head. “If you knew how many male friends I have you wouldn’t ask me that.”

“But since I don’t know, I’d like to hear your opinion.”

“Men and women can be friends,” I reply confidently. “As long as you can convince yourself that you’re sitting across from a hippo.”

We gaze at each other for a second before we double over with laughter.

“You’re still totally nuts.”

“I’ve just watched too many episodes of
How I Met Your Mother
.” I take a deep breath. “What part of the beach is the party on?”

“Westhampton Beach.”

“Great, that means I can walk home if I want to.”

Pax nods again. “True, but Ryker usually has a driver to bring home tipsy guests.”

“Even better, but I won’t be drinking anyway.”

He points at the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes, please.” I pick up my cardigan and my bags, and then we leave Paxton’s apartment.

As we reach his car, I’m struck with wonder.

“You’re still driving your dad’s Impala?”