The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3) (17 page)

He crouches down in front of me, lifts the book from my fingers, and his brows crinkle. “What are you doing?”

The color on my face darkens, but I manage to say, “It was over there. I figured if you didn’t want anyone to look at it, it wouldn’t be out. Right?”

He holds it back out to me. “No problem. Nothing exciting. Mostly me and my sister. I was thinking of having a beer before we head back. Do you want something?”

A drink?

Is he trying to loosen me up?

Maybe he did bring me here to try to make a move on me, and God, why doesn’t that bother me? Take a girl to your place. Give her a drink. Oldest game in the book. It should piss me off. Why doesn’t it?

I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”

When I don’t take the photo album, he sets it on the table and stands up. “Are you OK, Krystal?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The list ticks off in my head though I don’t want it to: I’m alone in a guy’s apartment for the first time—stupid, but this feels different than being alone with Daryl; I followed him here and I don’t even know him; and he looks like that.

His smile this time makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll be right back.”

I follow him with my gaze as he disappears into the kitchen. “Where’s your roommate?”

“Probably already out for the night. It’s Saturday.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Since I started working for your dad.”

“Where’d you live before?”

“Ohio.”

“Is that where the pictures are from?”

“Most of them.” He returns, beer in hand, and sinks down to sit beside me. “What’s with all the questions?”

Embarrassed, I shrug. “I don’t know. We got here and I realize I don’t know anything about you.”

He takes a sip from his beer. “Not much to know. I was raised in Ohio. Got stationed in Washington State. My sister, Jane, moved with me and still lives there. After I left the military I came here to work for your dad. My entire life history in”—he pauses with eyes squinted as though counting—“four sentences.”

Oh no.

He didn’t do that.

I bust up laughing.

The smile fades from his face. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” But I can’t stop laughing.

“I’m glad you find me so amusing.”

His tone makes the laughter stop. “No. It’s not that.”

“What, then?”

He sounds annoyed.

Crap, I don’t want to tell him. I exhale slowly and scrunch up my face. “It’s a pet peeve of my family. I count sentences. As in, I say ‘informative news update in twelve sentences.’ I just never heard anyone else do that before.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling again. “It drives Brayden crazy.”

“Like it’s the worst habit in the world, only it’s not. I can think of much worse habits.”

He studies my face, amused. “Why do you do it?”

“I don’t know. Ballet is a lot of counting. I tend to count things all the time. Why do you do it?”

The humor fades from his face. “You count days when you’re going through stuff you don’t want to. The habit stuck.”

I wonder if he’s talking about the military. If he didn’t like it or maybe something he went through while deployed, and it strangely feels like I should ask, as if that admission is material to him, but the pleasant light gone from his eyes prompts me not to.

He runs his fingers over his hair. “Do you want to head out?”

My gaze moves to his bottle. “You haven’t finished your beer. I’m not in a hurry. Are you?”

He checks his phone—checking the time or for notifications?—then shoves it back into his pocket. “We can hang here for a while longer if you want to.”

I nod, surprised that I do. Being here has made me curious about Jacob, and he’s talking.

He takes another long drink from his bottle, and his expression indicates he’s searching for something to say. “So why ballet? Have you always wanted to be a dancer?”

I laugh. Not exactly a new question. “I love the precision of it. The structure. The elegance. The control it takes to do something that looks so effortless.”

A large smile claims his lips. “It doesn’t look effortless to me. Every day, hours in your studio. Same move. Over and over again. Four to eight at the rail every day then off to the studio for more dancing. Home by ten. Don’t know what you do after that. You probably dance in your room until lights out for Krystal.”

He says that sweetly teasing, but my eyes widen. So he has watched me. He’s always distant, and most of the time it feels like I don’t even exist in his world.

“Barre,” I correct and then tense, because people always get annoyed when I correct them on even the most basic ballet terms. Like I’m being snobby or something. “That’s part of what makes it effortless. Perfecting each move so they can flow naturally.” I bury my face in my hands to hide my blush. “I can’t believe we’re talking about ballet. It’s what I do but I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Why?”

I peek through my fingers. “I don’t know. People think it’s weird, OK? When anyone asks me what I’ve been up to, why they haven’t seen me around, and I say something like rehearsing Odette from
Swan Lake
, they stare and change the subject. It bugs me, so I don’t talk about it.”

“Who cares what anyone thinks? I think you’re amazing. I wish I had your dedication and drive.”

The compliment takes me off guard. “No, you don’t. You’re saying that because you have to. You probably think it’s weird, too.”

His face turns serious as he shakes his head at me. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

His gaze meets mine and my blood starts pumping faster. Our faces are so close, and I wonder if he’s going kiss me again. Out of nowhere I want him to and it feels like he should. Like this is a first kiss moment, even if he’s already kissed me once.

He taps me on the nose. “You need to worry less about what anyone thinks. It’s hard enough to be happy without wanting other people’s approval to do it.”

Grabbing his beer, he quickly rises and I watch as he leaves the room. I stare at the empty space beside me as I try to figure out what just happened here.

“We should get back to Malibu. Maddy must be wondering where you are.”

I look over my shoulder to find him with the couch between us, car keys in hand.

“No, she’s not wondering. She’s probably too busy with her friends or Nick. Hasn’t texted me since the restaurant. But we can leave if you want to.”

He crosses the room and opens the door. Things were starting to feel comfortable between us, but now we’re back to silence in the car.

I stand up, grab the photo album, and return it to the shelf. This was nice. Why doesn’t anything good outside the dance studio last for very long?

We’re on the I-10 west almost to the exit for Malibu. Everything inside me is jumping like a ping-pong ball and I stare out at the passing lights, telling myself not to but wanting to do it.

Krystal, you have lost your mind.

Maybe not.

What’s the worst that could happen? I make a fool of myself. I’ve already done that, more than once, this weekend. I’m ninety percent sure what I was feeling back at the apartment Jacob was feeling, too. I don’t know why he backed off first, but now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t think it was because he wanted to.

He might just be unsure about me.

There’s been a lot this weekend to make a guy unsure over a girl. The Daryl incident—I cringe—and I’ve said a lot of things that weren’t encouraging.

But I’m starting to think Maddy might be right.

He could be something good for me.

I really like him.

It’s not like it’s going to get messy and complicated.

Not enough time.

Three days and then I’m off to New York.

How messy could it get in three days?

Damn it, Krystal, do it.

I turn in my seat, laying my head against the rest, and smile. “Do you want to go to a movie or something before we head back to Malibu?”

Jacob’s eyes flicker with surprise. “A movie?” He laughs. “I thought you wanted to get back to Madison.”

I search his face. I can’t tell if that’s a rejection, a question, or an opening.

I crinkle my nose. “I’m not in the mood to hang around Madison’s friends tonight. Are you?”

He shrugs instead of answering.

My brows lower.

It’s like he’s trying to be nonchalant and isn’t.

I study him for a moment trying to figure out why he’s being so evasive.

Oh, now I get it.

Sierra’s at the house.

I should probably give him points for not saying it.

No need to try another move on him since that was more than clarifying. If Jacob wanted to spend time alone with me, he’d have jumped on that. But instead, it’s Sierra he’s eager to jump.

I turn forward in my seat.

Jacob’s eyes shift toward me and he searches my face. “We can do a movie tomorrow if you want to.”

“No. I didn’t really want to.”

“OK. Then why do you look upset?”

“I’m not upset. I’m ready to be out of this car. I don’t know why we had to go to your house so you could change your clothes.”

“I thought maybe we were doing something later. Going out. Brayden didn’t pack me anything for night. I just needed clothes. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

He sounds sincere about this.

I shake my head. “I’m not pissed off. Can we go back to not talking to each other again?”

Stop it, Krystal, you’re being lame. You’re fighting with him and he’s clueless, and he should be clueless because we’re not involved so this is insane.

I wish my insides would settle down. Not happening. Jeez, I asked Jacob Merrick out on a date to the movies and he said
no.

That’s what happened here.

We both know it.

We merge onto the exit for PCH and after a short while we’re on the dark, narrow highway near the beach.

What’s with all the cars?

Oh, you’ve got to be freaking kidding me.

How could Madison think this was an all right thing to do? How many of her friends did she put the word out to? And how did she manage to do all this in half a day?

Valet for parking. House lit up, light show from the back patio shooting over the roof—who taught Nick how to work the drones?—and a bass beat thumping the car loudly.

My ass is toast.

As he turns into the driveway, Jacob makes a fast glance at me. “What’s wrong?”

I gesture angrily with an arm. “Can’t you see it? I should never have trusted Maddy. My parents are going to explode when they find out about this. If the Malibu house gets ruined again I won’t ever be able to make that up to my dad. This house is special to him.”

He turns off the car. “If something happens to the house it’s not your fault. Madison did this. Not you. It’s going to be fine, Krystal, and you’ve got to admit it’s pretty unbelievable.”

“Not unbelievable. It’s a nightmare.”

“Let’s go in and check it out. If it’s awful, we’ll take off. Aren’t you a little curious about what’s going on inside?”

“I’ve been to a party of Madison’s before. Not curious at all.”

He unbuckles his seat belt. “We’re going in.”

“No, we are not. This weekend has been nothing but one terrible thing after another. You’re right. Lying doesn’t work out well. And I’ve had enough. Take me home, Jacob. It’s time to go back to Pacific Palisades and consider this weekend done.”

He climbs from the driver’s seat, and I watch him in disbelief as he runs around the front of the car and opens my door.

“Get out of the car, Krystal,” he orders with quiet forcefulness.

Crossing my arms, I stare up at him and shake my head. “Give me my keys. I’ll drive myself.”

“You want your keys, they’ll be inside.”

He starts walking away.

I spring from my seat and stare at his departing back. “Give me my keys.”

He stops five feet away and turns to stare at me. “Come into the party, Krystal.”

I turn my back on him. “Why do you have to be such a jerk about this? I don’t want to go to Madison’s party. If you’re so hot to get in there, why don’t you go without me?”

“I’m not going inside without you, Krystal. And I’m not leaving you outside at night alone.”

He’s coming back toward me.

“Then we have a problem. I’m not going in.”

He stands close to me, one arm straight with palm against the roof of the car. “Five minutes. We’ll take a fast look around and we can leave if you want. Can we agree to do at least that?”

Shaking my head, I growl in frustration. “Let me go home and we don’t have to agree on anything, ever. You want to go to the party. Go. You don’t need my permission to hook up with Sierra. That is why you want to get in there, isn’t it?”

Jacob jerks a hand over his hair. “Sierra? Is that a joke?”

“I don’t think she’s a joke. I don’t think she’s funny at all.” I lift my chin, locking my gaze on a light on the horizon. “God, you don’t have to pretend that isn’t why you’re so eager to get in there. I saw you two together at lunch, remember?”

“If I wanted to be with her do you think I’d be in the driveway arguing with you?”

“Give me my car keys and argument over.”

He rubs his brow as though struggling to contain himself. “Jesus Christ, what does a guy gotta do to get you not to be difficult? All day, you give me the silent treatment over what happened during lunch, and now when I need you to do something you want to fight about it and turn it into a blood sport.”

“I’m not doing anything of the kind. Do you not get it? I’ve been embarrassed enough for one day. Do you really think I want to spend more hours at a party and watch my pretend boyfriend chase after some skank of a girl I can’t stand?”

He plants his hands on either side of the car, pinning me with his gaze and body. “I’m not the least bit interested in Sierra. Do you just like to drive me crazy or are you blind? The only girl I want to be with tonight is you.”

Before I can get out a response, his mouth crashes into mine and any doubt he’d been telling the truth shatters with his kiss.

His mouth plunders mine, hungry and demanding, as his anxious hands roam my body. His palms run down my back and lift me upward, closer and closer though it already feels as if I’ve melted into him.