The Proverbial Mr. Universe (17 page)

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Authors: Maria La Serra

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BOOK: The Proverbial Mr. Universe
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His heart pounded so loudly that he was sure of everyone in that bar heard. Nick knew that was the opportunity he had been waiting for. It was a do or die kind of situation. All he needed to do was get her alone. He begged his friend Luke, who happened to be there alone and thankfully very single, to help him out by distracting Olivia’s friend. He didn’t necessarily have to twist Luke’s arm. Luke took one look at the redhead and voila! It was a win-win all around. It almost didn’t work as he hoped, and he thought he’d almost blown it—thanks for his natural talent of placing his big foot in his big mouth. As much as he liked it when she got all fired up, he didn’t intentionally want to be the cause of it. To his surprise he managed to turn things around and then there she was, talking to him, laughing with him—more like at him. He loved the way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled, and that dimple would appear in her cheek. She was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen.

He wasn’t going to deny it.

“I just wanted to hang out with you, get to know you better.”

Olivia studied him for a moment, her eyes revealing more than words ever could. It was almost seductive, the way she walked away from him, gazing back so he could see her eyes entice him to follow.

 

 

O
livia led him through the crowd, into a room with only enough space for the two of them. She leaned against the wall, holding her almost finished Champaign glass to her lips. Her eyes were soft and clearer than they’d ever been. Nick thought it might be an open invitation. If he were bolder, he probably would have leaned in and seen where his lips would have taken him. He struggled with the urge. It was difficult to ignore this electrifying heat. Sitting across from her on the bench at the center of the room was a better decision.

“So … this whole thing is weird, right?” She gave him a sideways glance.

“What’s that?” He playfully swirled his glass between his fingers.

“How we seem to show up at the same places.” She pushed herself away from the wall to get a better look at the canvas displayed in front of her. “How long have we been crossing each other’s path? Why is it we have never spoken to each other before?”

Nick certainly believed in destiny, but it only took you so far. After that, everything was entirely up to you.

“Well, I have a theory.” Nick placed his almost-full champagne glass back on the table next to him.

“Do you?” She walked across the room and sat next to him on the leather bench.

“I think we are quite stubborn people … you and I. I think the universe has a clever way of forcing us to take a hard look at each other. A chance to notice each other when we probably wouldn’t on our own. Like a bird and air … on our own we’re probably okay, but put us together and we’re amazing.”

“So which one am I?” She smiled.

“The bird. You’re definitely the bird.” He grinned.

He saw Olivia like a beautiful bird, so uncertain of herself. He wanted to tell her that he had hoped one day he could be like air to her. The air she could not breathe without, the air under her wings that could take her soaring through the vast sky. It was corny, but there was never a right way to tell someone how you felt about them.

Nick wanted to tell her that he tried so desperately, wanted to say something to her for the longest time. He wasn’t going to scrutinize the circumstances that brought them together … whatever they might be. He didn’t know where this was headed. All he was sure of was he had this soft spot for Olivia. He only hoped the feeling somehow went both ways. He could feel her studying him, like she was trying to make up her mind about him. Olivia took another sip of her drink before getting up and walking toward the next canvas.

“After all, girls like you wouldn’t give a guy like me the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Girls like me?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Beautiful. Smart … a lot going on for them.”

She laughed. “I don’t have a lot going on. I’m sure you’d be surprised to find I’m not who you think I am.” She glanced around the room before saying, “My grandfather had a saying about people who seemed to have a lot going for them: it’s all smoke and no roast.”

“Wise man.”

She shrugged. “My grandfather was a superb man with an immense heart. He passed away six years ago.” A faint shadow of sadness crossed her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s just life.” She averted her eyes back to the canvas.

Nick took a long look at her. He was familiar with the constant heartache that came with the loss of someone you loved. He understood the absent void in the heart, the agonizing suffering of never seeing, touching, or hearing that person again. This feeling that only got better with time, but never actually went away. It was a deep scar on his heart that for him it was a testament for the ones who were absent from his life, but still very much loved. That was something Nick never wanted to go away.

He looked back at her, but tonight he didn’t wish to talk about loss. He only wanted her to smile. Maybe he was selfish, but when she did smile it had a profound, positive effect on him. It was his duty to keep all the bad away, giving only best of himself.

“Hypothetically speaking, let’s just say we met here for the first time.” He looked around. “Would you have given me a chance?” He made a silly face, which made her laugh.

“Why not?”

“I don’t believe you would give me a chance in hell.”

She gave him a perplexed look. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Because I already told you about a small part of myself and now you’re curious about me. You can’t help wanting to know more.” He grinned.

She leaned into her heel. “I do recognize you from Café Orleans, sitting in the back with a sketchbook and a pencil behind your ear, wearing one of your lamest T-shirt and that sad looking hat.”

“Hey, I love that hat. I only wear it on special occasions.” He smiled. “I’ll have you know those lame T-shirts were all a ploy, a way for you to notice me. What can I say, I’m a man who chooses substance over style.”

She smiled. “Of course I noticed you, Montgomery. Any hot-blooded woman would notice you.”

He gave her a curious look, but she turned away before he could question her any further.

“So you think I’m beautiful, Montgomery?” she asked without looking at him.

“You are unbelievable, breathtakingly … beautiful.” He could tell by the look in her eyes that his bluntness took her by surprise. Perhaps she didn’t expect that from him, but it was the truth. “But that’s not the reason I find myself so compelled to you.”

“So what is it?” she said in half whisper.

“It’s something that can’t be explained.” He ran his hand through his hair, looked up at the ceiling, and tried to gather his words. “It’s like I’ve been wandering around without a purpose, then out of the blue, I look up and there you are, and all of a sudden everything makes perfect sense. I get this feeling inside me that says, “Hey, I think I should know you.’ It’s like a sweet déjà vu. You evoke all these sentiments and familiarity in me without saying a single word.” He paused. “I feel like our souls knew each other before. I don’t understand it myself, but with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m trying to get to know you … more like I already do.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in past lives, Montgomery? Are you trying to tell me you think we knew each other in another lifetime?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Why couldn’t it be possible? Think of all the drama that’s going on above our heads? Stars that are born and then die, the sun that gives life, the moon that keeps us in place, the many distant galaxies that exist. The universe … it’s surreal. Why couldn’t it be possible for something more?” He glanced up to find her smiling the kind of smile when someone was trying to decide on how they felt about the other person. “Anyhow, whatever it is … faith, destiny, or pure dumb luck, all I know if I followed that thread, I am almost sure it will always lead me right back to you.”

Her mouth slightly opened, but nothing came out. She was speechless. Maybe he freaked her out a bit. His stomach twisted in knots, and he had a profound feeling that he derailed the train before it even had a chance to take off.

“Sorry, I said too much … maybe I’m just not explaining myself correctly.”

“No … you did.”

“Then what?”

She slowly shook her head. “I just got chills.” She slightly shook herself as though she felt the electricity running between them.

“What’s that about?”

“I don’t know, what you just said I guess …”

“I’m glad I have a profound effect on you,” Nick said.

He could hear the sound of Olivia’s heels clicking on the marble floor as she traversed to the next canvas behind him.

After a short moment, she said, “Well, I guess … if I did live in the past, I’d hope it would be in the Victorian era.”

“Why?”

“I would have liked to have met artists like Tissot and Renoir.”

“Are those your favorite artists?” Nick swung his legs over the bench to get a better look at her.

“A few … not that I studied much of their work or know much about them, but I had taken a Costume History back in college.” She tilted her head to the side. “You know, you probably would fit right in …” She lifted her chin, indicating his facial hair. “Facial hair for men was quite the trend in the Victorian period.” She laughed.

“I know, right? What a pair we would make. I would be some starving artist and you would be some duke’s daughter.”

“No! I wouldn’t want to be a duke’s daughter. Why would you say that?” She looked into her glass.

Nick was curious about her, but then again, he was always curious about people in general. He liked to figure them out in his head before getting to know them. Like a mathematical equation: take their upbringing—or lack thereof—plus the joys, subtract the fears and pitfalls, equals the person you find in front of you. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did that. Maybe because he was brought up on broken glass and bread crumbs. If he added all of his handful of joys, subtracted his tribulations and sorrows, he should have turned out to be an entirely different human. He was trying hard to defy the odds.

But Olivia had been by far the most interesting person he had ever met, because of the person she deliberately tried to repress. There was something about her that was so lonesome but yet so refine. Like a fine-cut diamond that illuminated when the light hit it, he couldn’t help but feel at peace and bask in the warm glow. It was a shame that she didn’t see what he saw.

“Then who would you be?”

“I’d rather be some starving artist’s muse.”

“Ah …” He evaluated her answer. If she chose to be in his life, she would never starve … not in any shape or form. He would make sure of it. In his eyes, Olivia wasn’t just any random person that happened to walk into his life. Whatever defined this fascinating life or the next one after it … if another parallel universe existed, whatever the belief, whatever higher power might be, there was only one truth he felt at that moment: he had found the piece of the puzzle he had been looking for. Maybe there was a danger in believing that there was only one person that is made for you, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What?” He gave her a sideways glance.

“I was just thinking.”

“That might be dangerous …”

“Funny guy.” She came closer and nudged him. “I was trying to picture your face … What you look like under all that hair.”

He rubbed his jaw. “What? You don’t find this sexy?”

“No! Not at all.” She laughed. “Sorry, the lumberjack look is just not doing it for me,” she teased.

He stifled a laugh. “Smartass.”

“What possessed you to grow it out anyway? And I know you didn’t do it because it’s trendy right now,” Olivia said without looking at him, walking toward the next painting.

“I don’t actually follow what’s trendy … I’m a man who chooses substance over style, remember.”

She glanced back at him.

“I had this for so long, I’m probably the one who started this.”

She smiled.

“Well, at first, it was pure laziness … but then the girls seemed to like it, so it stuck.” He gave her one of his best grins.

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