Then Summer Came (6 page)

“Then you should take the night off,” I suggested. 

“I can’t tonight, babe,” he complained, “but keep the tags on that new suit, and you can show it to me later, okay?”

I huffed and asked him to reconsider. 

“I really want to, Lis, but I have to go.  I love you, and I’ll see you as soon as I can get away.”

“Alright,” I moped.  “Love you, too.”  I dropped my phone into my lap and threw my head back onto the sofa.

“Guy troubles?” 

I jumped.  I hadn’t realized Beck was still standing behind me. 

“Ugh, men are the worst,” he mocked me as he sat down beside me.  “You should put that bikini on and go to him anyway.  I know that’d get me away from work.”

“Psh,” I scoffed.  “He’s too busy.  It’d take a full day to get through all of the secretaries and assistants.”

“So, when are you two tyin’ the knot?”

“I don’t know…”  I shrugged and picked through my Cap’n Crunch.

“You don’t know when you’re getting married?” he asked, his face scrunched.  “Haven’t you been engaged for over a year?”

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously.  “He…can’t find the time.” 

“Hey, man, have you seen—”  The apartment door slammed, and a guy I’d never seen before was standing next to the door.  He was staring at me, which was the obvious reason for his frozen question.  “Oh, hey!” he smiled cheerily.  His green eyes were sparkling and seemed to glow under his messy, jet-black hair.  “Are you Lissa?” he asked.  He was heading toward me, his hand extended, smiling. 

“U-uh, y-yeah,” I stuttered and reached for his hand.  “Yes, I’m Lissa.  Are you Beck’s friend?”

“Yeah.  I’m Mik.”

I shook his surprisingly gentle and warm hand.  Seeing him closer now, he looked more boyish than before.  His face was round and his cheeks puffy from all of his smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled. 

“Yeah!  You, too.  Beck’s told me—”

“Hey, Mik,” Beck interrupted.  “You were asking something when you came in?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mik recalled.  “I was looking for Clay.” 

“Oh, no, I haven’t seen him today.”

“Well, I’m going to take a shower,” I excused myself.  “It was great to meet you, Mik.” 

“You too, Lissa.” 

Lidia was cleaning up Derek’s bathroom, so I headed back to the living room to ask Beck if he minded if I used the guest shower.

“No, go ahead,” he offered, and I headed up the stairs.  “Hey,” he stopped me.  “Did you, by any chance, eat my only tub of Moose Tracks?”

I felt my face heating.  “Uh…yeah.  I’ll buy you another…sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I just noticed you put half of it back in there.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Ice cream is my weakness…I try not to eat very much of it.”

He and Mik shared a snicker, and Beck shook his head.  “Women…” was all he said. 

I turned on the water so it could warm up and laid out my clothes for easy access once I was done showering.  I turned to look for a towel, and I saw a damp towel hanging from the hook on the wall.  I remembered when I’d first started staying the night with Derek and he with me, and I always liked when he left his towel in my bathroom.  It was a reminder that he was planning on coming back to shower and use that towel again.  Plus the scent from his soap and shampoo left me wanting him. 

I absentmindedly pressed the tip of the fluffy towel to my face and inhaled its damp scent.  The smell was thick but mellow.  It smelled better than any cologne, soap, or body spray I’d ever smelled. 

I dropped the towel.  I was like a horny teenager sometimes.  It was out of control. 

After I was cleaned up, I bounced back down the stairs.  Beck had also cleaned up, and he looked like he was heading out. Beck’s friend, Mik, had already left.

“Hey, what about that game at the Staples Center?” he asked.  “You still wanna go?”

“Oh yeah, I bought tickets, but forgot all about it.  I, uh, I have plans with Derek.  Maybe…next game?”

“Yeah, just let me know.” 

I smiled and he slipped out the door.

I spent the next hour on my bed, painting my nails, and talking to Emily. 

“So, how’s the twin?” she asked.  I could hear her wicked grin through the phone. 

“He’s fine.”

“I bet he is,” she snickered. 

“You’re ridiculous.  Anyway, he bought food and it’s all in the kitchen, and his towel is hanging in the bathroom.”

Her end of the call was quiet for a moment.  “Oh, he puts things in the rooms they go in? 
How weird
…?” 

“No,” I exclaimed.  “I just mean, it’s weird that there is food in the house, and his shit is sitting everywhere.  I’m just used to the cold quiet of the apartment.  It’s just different, that’s all.” 

“Well maybe I can meet him when exams are over and I can actually have a life again.”

I laughed.  “You might be able to meet him tonight if you come over,” I wagered.  “I am so bored.  I have tons of work to do, but I’m just not feeling it.”

“Wish I could—oh, gotta go.  Erika is here to study.”

“K…”  It was sad sounding, but I was just so tired of being bored. 

My grandmother called to talk to me about the wedding.  I tried to sound as chipper as possible; she was excited for me, and I just didn’t have the heart to tell her we had all but postponed it. 

“I bought you the most gorgeous garter,” she chimed.  “I hope you don’t already have one.” 

“I don’t.  I can’t wait to see it.  I’ll come over soon, Grandma.” 

She lived in Roseville, and I rarely got to visit her, but Mom and I usually tried to make it up there once or twice a month. 

I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.  Beck had been gone since I’d gotten out of the shower and I pretty much just had a lazy day, loafing around Derek’s apartment. 

I danced into the living room—because, like any other woman, I liked to dance when no one was around—and I fell back onto the sofa.  It only took a few minutes of channel surfing before I decided there was nothing on.  I flipped on the Apple TV and bought a new romantic flick that I’d been dying to see, and I settled into the cushions. 

About an hour into the movie—you know, the most angsty, romantic part—the front door flung open.  I jumped, startled, and smeared my tears away quickly. 

“Aww, you don’t have to hide your tears from me, sappy,” Beck snickered. 

“Ugh, I knew I should’ve watched this in Derek’s room.”

He came around to get a good look at my sob fest.  “So you
knew
you were gonna cry?”

“I knew I
might
,” I sniffled. 

“I don’t know why.  You knew what was gonna happen.”

I used the collar of my shirt to wipe my damp cheeks.  “No I didn’t,” I argued.  “I’ve never seen this movie.”

“
Sure you did
.  They’re all the same,” he interrupted, plopping down beside me.  “Let me take a shot.” He leaned over and stroked his chin, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the scene.  “Okay, so Mary Sue’s in love with Plaid Shirt Dude here.”  He pointed at the lead female who was eyeing the lead male on the screen.  “And she thinks he’s into Cliché Hot Chick over there, but
really
he wants Mary Sue.”  He looked over at me from the corner of his eye and then continued.  “So, they play games for a little while, and then cowboy here decides to make a move on Mary Sue, and just when she thinks she’s got him:  Bam!  He kisses Cliché Hot Chick and, of course, Mary catches it
out of context
.  Then the schmuck explains himself and kisses away her tears and viola:  love!”  He dusted his hands off.  “I just saved you two hours.”  He laughed and patted my leg as he got to his feet. 

“Oh, thank you!” I patronized him. 

“Seriously, is this what you do with your free time?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes and went back to watching. 

“Come on!  Let’s do something that’s…not
this
.”  He waved his hand over my chick-flick session.

“Nah,” I turned my lip up.  “I’m gonna watch this.”

“Alright,” he sighed.  “If you say so.  Can I watch, too?”

I whipped my head around at him.  “Seriously?” I questioned him. 

“What?”  He raised his brows at me, his eyes wide.  “I’m into it now!  I have to know if Mary gets her man.”

It was weird watching a romantic movie with Beck.  Derek never watched with me, so I could cry shamelessly, but I felt a little embarrassed crying so hard in front of someone at such a predictable movie—as he’d pointed out.

“Uh!  No way!” he slapped his hands down on his knees as the last scene faded into the credits.  “I can’t believe Mary Sue and Plaid Shirt Guy ended up together.  That was such a surprise!  Who’d have thought?” 

I just blinked at him from the corner of my eyes, a gravely straight face, until he played up his surprised-and-shocked-valley-girl voice some more.  Then I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Chapter Six

“Derek?” I answered my phone hastily, realizing it’d rang several times before I’d actually heard it.

“Hey, sweetheart.”  My heart fluttered as his sexy tone flooded my ears. 

I dropped the stack of papers I’d been organizing onto the desk and motioned for Gina to pick up where I’d left off with them; Derek came first in my life.  I’d drop anything for two seconds on the phone with him, just to hear his voice. 

“Hey, did we have plans tonight?”

I hesitated at the nervousness that tickled his question.  “N-no.  We didn’t, why?”

“Oh, great,” he sighed, relieved.  “I was about to feel horrible when I had to cancel.  We’ve gotten a bid that I have to tend to, and I have to ride down to San Diego.  I’m leaving in an hour.”

“Oh, okay.  No, no plans.”  It was a lie.  We’d totally made plans earlier that week.  I just didn’t want to make him feel bad.  I hated that I never got to see him, but I wasn’t sure it’d make me feel very good if I messed something up at his job. 

“Alright, babe, I’ll call you later,” he chimed. 

I hung up feeling a little bitter, but I suppressed it.  I was the one who told him we didn’t have plans…

I headed back to Gina’s office and she caught me up on sales, and then I finished the paperwork that needed my attention.  Gina came in and out with fresh coffee and scones as I filed, typed, calculated, and signed until my hand cramped.  I hadn’t even started on the paperwork and contracts for the buyers, and it was already past midnight.  Gina took a latte run and came back with Mallory and Angie, my other assistants, which was amazing because I needed all the help I could find to get caught up. 

  The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the beanbag chair I’d passed out in.  I usually curled up in it on long nights so I’d be comfy and could finish my work quicker, but it was counterproductive because it was
too
comfortable, and I always just fell asleep in it.  Luckily, I’d managed to finish everything before I’d clonked out. 

My eyes found the window, and I the sun was up.  I’d slept all night.  I slithered out from under the jacket that Gina had probably thrown over me, and I ran down the hall, barefoot, to my office.  I spotted my Converse by the window and I slipped my feet into their comfy soles.  It was definitely a sneaker day. 

I cleared out a little more work before I headed for the elevator to go home.



I closed the door and walked back to Derek’s room.  I heard my piano in the back room as I pulled off my blouse and pulled on one of Derek’s t-shirts—more comfort to match my jeans and sneakers. 

A light, jazzy tune filled the apartment.  It took a few seconds but I recognized the James Morrison tune.  Then I heard Beck’s voice singing the second verse to “
I Won’t Let You Go
”. 

I quietly walked down the hall toward the back bedroom where the piano was.  I peeked around the door and watched as Beck’s fingers slid across the keyboard expertly, while he growled out the chorus.  He was actually really good, and he was also really into it.  I couldn’t help but smile.  It was so strange to see him that way.  I watched from the doorway as he played the song flawlessly, hitting every note, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.  He stumbled over a lyric and I tried not to laugh, but I was not successful and Beck looked over at me the second I did.  His fingers slowed and then stopped, and he blinked at me vacantly. 

“My bad,” he said.  “I didn’t know you were here.”  He didn’t look embarrassed, just interrupted.

“No, no,” I shook my head abruptly.  “It’s fine.  You’re really good.” 

He chuckled.  “Well, that’s true,” he said, smiling. 

I walked into the room toward him.  “I love that song,” I said.

“You know James Morrison?”  He sounded staggered. 

I smiled, remembering the first time I’d discovered James Morrison’s “
Better Man
”.

“Of course!” I said like he was crazy for thinking someone wouldn’t know James Morrison. 

“It’s just surprising.  I found him when I was visiting in Australia, and when I came back no one knew who the hell I was talking about.  He’s gruesomely underrated.”

“Well, I think he’s amazing.  Scoot,” I said and motioned for him to move over.

I wiggled onto the bench beside him and situated my fingers onto the keys.  I tapped the keys—just a warm up—and then mashed out the slow opening of “
Better Man”
—easily my all-time favorite song.  I hadn’t played in months, but my fingers hugged the keys like they’d played every-single-day for years. 

He nodded as I sang the first verse and chorus, and then he joined in on the second verse.  Our harmony wasn’t half bad.  I stared over at him from the corners of my eyes as we sang.  He seemed to be lost in the song.  His eyes closed as he sang the song like he’d wrote it.  It was mesmerizing and I couldn’t help but stare.  He slid his fingers in next to mine and played with me. 

His eyes finally opened as the song was winding down, and he smiled at me.

I finished the last few keys of the song and he started to laugh.  “You’re really good, Auburn.  I didn’t expect you to have such a raspy, jazz tone.”