Meeting Miss Mystic (22 page)

She nodded distractedly. She hadn’t thought about her principal having to find a sub for her and a permanent replacement. Her idea of calling to get her old job back suddenly felt pretty unrealistic.

“Here we are,” Paul said, gesturing to the left wall with one hand. “Do your worst.”

Zoë lifted her eyes to the wall and felt her face break into a grin. Art supplies covered an entire wall of shelves.

“Wow,” she sighed, moving toward the wall and finally being totally distracted by something other than Paul Johansson. “Wow. You’ve got everything.”

Metal shelves were neatly labeled and the supplies on them arranged so that students would be able to find everything they needed to spark their creativity. Paints, acrylic and oil, pastels, watercolors, brushes in every possible shape and size. She looked lower and found chalk and charcoal in neat buckets, waiting for a student to claim them, and lower still markers in a variety of a tip points and colors.

“We take specials and extracurricular activities really seriously,” he answered, grinning at her, and she could tell he was pleased by her reaction.

“I guess you do!” she said, genuinely impressed. “No wonder you’re ranked first in the state.”

“Hey,” he said, touching her elbow so that she turned to him. His face was intense and questioning. His forehead creased as he stared at her. “How’d you know that?”

Oh, crap!
That wasn’t something she should know! He shared the news with her over the phone last week but she knew it wasn’t going to be announced publicly for another two weeks. She turned back to the art supplies, stalling.

She swallowed uncomfortably, having a wild impulse to tell him everything. Just start talking and tell him everything and not stop until he escorted her back to the front door of the school and locked her out.

Instead, she remembered something she’d read in the local paper this morning while waiting for her coffee.

“I-I mean, I’m
assuming
you will be. I read in the newspaper this morning that it’s going to be announced soon and that Gardiner’s in the running.”

He stared at her for an extra beat before his face relaxed and he nodded. “Yes, we’re a finalist this year. He hesitated. I shouldn’t tell you this. They contacted me last week. …we won. We’re first.”

She turned back to him, her face a beaming smile. “That’s just—that’s amazing, Paul! Congratulations! You must be so proud!”

He nodded modestly, but he looked delighted. And young. And beautiful.

She couldn’t stop herself.

She opened her arms, stepping toward him, and without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled her into his body for a hug, pressing her tightly up against his chest, his arms encompassing her whole body. Zoë closed her eyes, twisting her neck to rest her cheek on his shirt, relieved that she hadn’t been found out, the adrenaline rush still making her feel a little dizzy. She wobbled on her feet a little and Paul leaned back to look at her, but he didn’t let go.

“Did I hurt your leg pulling on you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head slowly, holding his eyes.

Something shifted in the air between them, and she was suddenly, achingly aware of his closeness.

“Zoë, I…” His low, deep-conflicted voice trailed off as his gaze flicked to her lips. “I promised I wouldn’t…”

He wanted to kiss her again.

And she wanted him to.

But she saw the pain in his eyes, the terrible fight he was having with himself, and her love for him overrode her almost painful desire for him. She pushed back against his chest, stepping away from him, turning quickly back to the art shelves.

Longing for him pooled low in her tummy, throbbing and painful, and her eyes burned with tears. But she didn’t turn around. She knew if she caught his eyes one more time, they’d both be lost.

“Choose whatever you want, whatever you need,” he said softly from behind her. “I’m going to stop in at the office. I’ll meet you back at the front doors.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She listened as he crossed back to the door that led back out to the corridor.

“Zoë?”

“Mmm?” she murmured with her back to him.

“Thank you,” he whispered before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

***

Paul was grateful to be sitting next to Lars in the front seat of his truck and not next to Zoë in the backseat. Although there’s nothing he’d like better than to sit beside her, he was proving to have little to no self-control where she was concerned. Anyway, before they left Gardiner and lost the cell signal, he wanted to send a quick “Hello/I miss you” text to Holly.

Hey Holly. Hope all is well in CT and you’re settling into your hotel. I really miss you. If you can talk before Fri, please call. –P

He pushed his phone in his back pocket then heard an almost immediate ding ring out in the car. He fished his phone back out quickly, but there were no new incoming messages. It must not have been his phone. Turning his head slightly, he saw Zoë looking at her phone on one side of the backseat and Jane looking at hers on the other—
must have been one of theirs.
While he had the phone back out, he scrolled through his texts with Holly for a moment, realizing that she’d never written back to the text he sent yesterday afternoon, and here he was sending another.

He blew out an annoyed breath, tucking his phone away again.
Talk about needy.

He had promised himself not to act like a needy, cloying boyfriend while Holly was at her conference and now here he was, texting her repeatedly. Even worse than the action was the reason behind it. Guilt. He had sent both messages not because he’d seen something that reminded him of Holly or because he had something meaningful to share with her, but because he felt guilty about his attraction to Zoë. He was reaching out to Holly to remind himself why he shouldn’t pursue Zoë. Awful.

You shouldn’t need to hear Holly’s voice to be assured that she’s worth holding out for.

Then again, he couldn’t deny his attraction to Zoë, or his growing admiration of her. She was a complex combination of contradictions and he could feel her getting under his skin; she was little and curvy, she was vulnerable and guarded, she was sad and hopeful. He was interested in her.

There. You admitted it.

Did it make him any less committed to Holly just because he was interested in Zoë? Was there room for both situations in his life?

He mulled this over for a minute while Jane leaned forward to plug in her iPhone to Lars’s radio. A second later an older, bluesy-style rock and roll song came through the speakers. Paul didn’t know the song but the lyrics in the first verse included the words “Now, baby, you’re casting your spell on me…” and Paul looked out the window, smiling lightly. Wasn’t it strange when that happened? When a song you’d never heard before nailed the way you were feeling?

Yes
, he decided.
There’s room for both, as long as you’re just figuring it out. But you’re going to have to make a choice. Soon.

In the wing mirror to his right, he saw Zoë’s face peeking out of the window behind him. Her black hair was blowing back, and while her sunglasses kept her eyes hidden, she was smiling and occasionally looking back at Jane as they sang along to the song. He stared at her in the mirror until he realized she was staring back at him. She lowered the glasses and he watched, transfixed, as one eye winked, almost in slow motion, before she pushed the glasses back up on her nose.

Paul looked away from the mirror, sitting back in the seat, unable to keep the grin from spreading out across his face.

Figure out what’s between you and Zoë. But you’re going to have to make up your mind who you want in your life. Sooner than later…before someone gets hurt.

Chapter 13

Zoë couldn’t get over the wild beauty of the falls. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and even though she’d been trying to capture their rushing majesty with pastels and chalk for over two hours, she didn’t feel that anything she had created was doing it justice.

“Hey, Zoë! You almost ready for lunch?” asked Jane with a sunny smile, walking over to Zoë from the other side of the viewing area where she’d been experimenting with different angles, lenses and filters. “Lars texted me. The guys are taking a break.”

They’d left the car at a parking area near the road at the top of the falls and the girls had walked the short way to a viewing area where Zoë had helped Jane set up her tripod before finding a rock where she could spread out her art supplies. Before they’d parted, Lars had explained that Gibbon Falls was located roughly five miles upstream from the confluence of the Gibbon and Firehole Rivers and had a drop of approximately 85 feet. They’d made a plan to meet up in a few hours and then Lars and Paul had headed back to the car to suit up in waders and vests, grab their fly fishing poles and lure kits.

But first, Lars had pulled Jane into his arms for a kiss and Paul had turned to Zoë with soft, warm eyes. “You’ll be okay up here?”

She nodded, smiling at him. “Sure. Jane’ll be with me.”

“You’ll be able to see us down there. If you want to, you can—I mean, you can come down if you want to watch. Or—or draw, you know. Down there. Near me.”

“I’d love it,” she said, and felt a shiver as his face broke into a pleased smile.

“Just be careful on your descent. In fact, have Jane call me. I’ll come up and get you, okay?” His eyes were filled with tenderness and concern and Zoë couldn’t look away from him. She could barely speak. “I’ll catch you something.”

“Oh, yeah? A pet?” she asked softly.

“Well…no. We can’t keep ‘em but we could name one before we throw him back.” His eyes twinkled with the silly sweetness of his suggestion.

“Name him?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping closer to her. His eyes grew more serious suddenly, holding hers. “Zoë, I want—”

“You ready, man?” Lars slapped Paul on the shoulder.

Paul jerked his head over to face his friend then turned back to Zoë.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

He gave her a half smile as he followed Lars over to the truck.

Zoë stared after him, her feet unable or unwilling to move. What was he about to say? What did he want? Frustration and excitement fought for her attention and she finally let excitement win for one important reason as something new dawned on her:

He didn’t look guilty.

When he’d been flirting with her just now and even when he started to get serious before Lars interrupted them, he didn’t look guilty. He looked easy and relaxed and playful without the pain she’d seen in his eyes when he’d almost kissed her in the art studio two hours ago.

What had changed on the drive to the falls?
she wondered. Then, thinking about the warmth in his bright blue eyes she added
And please can it stay that way?

She wasn’t surprised to get his text as they left Gardiner. She knew that he’d felt conflicted in the art studio and it was the second time he’d reached out to “Holly” when he felt a pull to Zoë. Something awkward had occurred to her, reading his short text in the truck.

Did she have a right to feel slighted that he was showing interest in Zoë? Did it mean that what she’d shared with him as Holly didn’t matter? Did it make him somehow unfaithful to her as Holly that he seemed interested in her as Zoë?

No!
she answered the ridiculous thoughts.
He doesn’t know it, but he’s responding to the same things about you in person that he responded to virtually. You’re the same person. You don’t lose anything if he likes both parts of you.

But it didn’t sit entirely well with her and she wondered, yet again, about telling him the truth. It’s just that she’d hung out with him for almost twenty-four straight hours now, and with every passing moment, the stakes grew higher. Losing him was more and more unthinkable. Her only hope was that if he fell hard for her as Zoë, she’d have an easier time holding onto him when he found out she was Holly too.

“This is great!” exclaimed Jane, finally standing behind her. “You’re really talented!”

Zoë looked up at Jane over her shoulder, envious that Jane’s love life was so easy, so figured out, so solid.

“Thanks,” she said. “Sure beats building websites.”

Zoë stood up, wiping her palms on her jeans and placing the pastels carefully back in the box in rainbow order.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jane, who was gathering Zoë’s papers into a portfolio folder.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Paul…” Zoë looked up at Jane’s expectant face and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Jane’s eyes brightened and she grinned. “You like him. I knew it!”

Zoë smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “What’s not to like?”

“Yeah, he’s awesome.”

“He’s mentioned, um—”

“Miss Mystic
. Holly
,” supplied Jane and Zoë felt a stab of guilt to be deceiving her new friend. “Yeah, he met her online. But…”

Jane handed Zoë the neatened portfolio and paused, looking into Zoë’s eyes.

“They haven’t met yet,” Jane said quietly, looking away, as though she were betraying someone.

“So…”

“So, if I were you? I’d try to figure out kind of quick if you’re really interested. Because she’s stiff competition, but you’re here and she’s…”

“Not,” said Zoë, quietly. “But is he the type of guy who could move on so quickly? From her to me?”

Jane started back to the truck to drop off their supplies and Zoë walked beside her.

“Here’s the thing…I’m sure Holly’s a great girl. I’m sure she is or he wouldn’t like her so much. The timing sort of sucks for him. If he’d met you several weeks ago, he wouldn’t have known Holly yet.” She touched Zoë’s arm when they reached the truck and Zoë turned to Jane. “Know how Lars and I finally got together? It was because I decided not to regret anything. I was about to leave for the airport when someone very wise told me that the saddest word in the world was regret. It really resonated with me. I mean, I’d only known Lars for a week, but I knew if I left him, I’d regret it more than anything in my life.