The Gravity Between Us (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (18 page)

It doesn’t seem right to accept a gift from someone I met half an hour ago. It’s like I’ll be indebted to her in some way. Lauren must sense my hesitation; she reassuringly places her hand on the small of my back. A groundswell of pure exhilaration runs through me from head to toe. “It’s okay, Payton.” Her voice is as softhearted as the expression on her face.

Victoria pushes the garment bag toward me. “Please, I insist.”

I take the hanger graciously. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

As we say our goodbyes, Victoria slips her business card into my hand. “Should you decide you might be interested in a modeling career, I’d love to have you in one of my shows.”

No. I have absolutely no interest in peddling my body for a living.
“I don’t think so, but thank you anyway,” I reply as lightly as possible.

❄ ❄ ❄

I open the car door for Lauren. A look of astonishment warps her features.

A small, self-conscious giggle slips through my lips. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just, I can’t remember the last time anyone opened a door for me—anyone who wasn’t being paid to, that is.”

“I try to mind my manners,” I reply. I hang the dress on the hook in the back seat then slide into the front.

“You know, that dress is almost as beautiful as you are,” she says.

My cheeks instantly catch fire. I feel them redden with heat and have to bite my bottom lip to keep from calling her crazy.

She seems to notices the blush. “You really don’t know how pretty you are, do you?”

Before I can stop myself, I roll my eyes. “I’m really not, though.”

“Wow, polite and modest. I didn’t know they still made people like you.”

“
You’re
polite.”

“But I’m not modest?” she asks playfully.

“I’m not sure yet,” I tease back. Somewhere inside of me, a current of courage surges. I’m not ready for this outing to come to an end. If I’m going to do this whole dating thing, then I’m going to invest myself fully. “If you don’t have other plans, I’d like to take you to lunch.” I hold my breath in anticipation of her answer.

“I would love that,” she replies with a pleased smile.

She chooses a restaurant in Santa Monica called Killian’s Kitchen. It has a homey atmosphere, small and quiet. To be honest, I’m surprised at the lack of attention she’s garnered throughout the day. I was expecting her to have a ton of screaming fans following close behind like Kendall always does, but Lauren is only stopped by a few people. I’m glad that her presence doesn’t send every person she meets into frenzy; it gives us the chance to talk in earnest.

Over lunch, I tell her all about growing up in New Jersey and how my grandfather gave me piano lessons twice a week until the week he died. She tells me all about how her entire family packed up and moved to California from Kentucky when she was ten so that she could go to auditions without having to commute constantly.

“My parents were so cool about it,” she says. “Both my mom and dad were professors at the University of Louisville at the time. My mom got a job at UCLA, my dad got one at USC and snap! Just like that, we moved. My older brother hated the idea at first. He’d recently started high school, making new friends and all that.”

“But he got over it when he saw all the girls strutting around town half-naked, right?” I jest.

“Yeah, basically.”

“It sounds like you’re very close to your family.”

“I am. When I got my own place, my mother insisted that it be in the same neighborhood. So, of course, I live across the street from my parents now.”

I laugh. “I get that. I thought my mom was going to have a conniption when I told her I was moving out here.”

“And did she?”

“Not exactly. She was mostly concerned that I was doing it for the right reasons. You know, for educational purposes.”
As opposed to what, following Kendall around like a puppy?
“So, what’s your next project and when are you starting it?”

“Actually, my brother and I are working on a screen play together right now, so I’m taking a few months off from acting until filming for
The Relishing
starts.”

“You’re an actress
and
a screen writer? That’s one hell of a resume.”

“It’s solely a passion project at the moment, but fingers crossed we’ll eventually be able to make a movie out of it.”

She tells me that her screen play is about the life of a fictional 1940’s-era jazz songstress, which leads us into a forty-five minute conversation about our mutual love of the genre. “If there’s anything I know, it’s jazz—thanks to my grandfather, of course. I think
Lady Sings the Blues
is one of my all-time favorite albums.”

She gasps. “Oh my god, I
love
Billie Holiday!”

“I’ve tried a few times to do my own rendition of ‘God Bless the Child,’ but that song is too amazing to ever be covered.”

“Let’s make a deal right now. If I’m ever able to get this script a green light, you’ll do the score.”

“You haven’t even heard me play, let alone anything I’ve composed.”

“Payton, you got into MALA without having to audition in person. Kendall practically swears by your talent.
And
you were taught by an underground jazz legend. That’s proof enough for me.”

“I guess I can’t refute the facts, can I?”

She shakes her head. “We have a deal, then?”

It could be precisely the thing I need to get my foot in the door, and even if it isn’t, I’d have a lot of fun doing it. I throw my hands up. “Why not? I’m in.”

She smiles. “Brilliant!”

Our waitress mistakes my gesture as a signal for the check. She places it in the middle of the table and saunters quickly away. Lauren and I burst into synchronized laughter.

“She’s eager to get us out of here, huh?” I speak through my giggle.

She glances at her watch. “We
have
been here for two hours.”

“Yeah, it’s time for us to leave.”

Both of us reach for the bill and our hands accidentally touch. Her lips slide into a shy grin, but she doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. It’s nice for a change, not freaking out over making physical contact with a girl.

“I’ve got it.”

“No, I do,” she protests.

“I asked you to lunch, so I’ve got it.”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can’t refute the facts, can I?”

That’s my line, only cuter. “No, you can’t.”

❄ ❄ ❄

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon as we pull up to the apartment building. She throws the car in park and walks me to the front entrance. I want to invite her inside, but feel like that would be moving too fast. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea or anything.

“Thank you. I had a great time”

“I did, too.” I shift the garment bag from my left arm to my right and motion it at her. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem. So I’ll be here with the limo around nine on New Year’s Eve.”

“Okay, great.”

She takes a pace toward me, closing the gap between us. My initial gut reaction is to move away from her, but I somehow manage to hold my ground.
Is she going to kiss me? Should I let her? What is the proper first date etiquette?
Before my inner turmoil can get the best of me, I pull her into a hug and kiss her cheek.

She’s all smiles when I let her go. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, you will.”

She waves goodbye as she walks back to the car. I feel kind of awesome as I watch her drive away.

Upstairs, Kendall is lounging on the sofa reading
The Relishing
and enjoying a glass of red wine.
She’s drinking just to drink? That’s new.

“Hey,” I interject.

She looks up from her page. “You’re home late,” she mutters then returns her attention to the book. “I suppose that means you had a good time.”

I shamble over to the couch, lay the garment bag across the back, and take a seat beside her. “I did, yeah. We went to lunch after visiting the dress shop.”

“That’s nice.” There’s a subtle note of indifference to her voice like she doesn’t actually give a damn whether or not I had an enjoyable day.

I want to say something about it, but don’t. “What did you do today?”

“Mostly this,” she gestures to the book. “It’s good. I can see why they want to make a movie out of it.”

“Is it? Cool. I’ll have to read it when you’re done with it.”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “Looks like you got your dress. Can I see it?”

“Okay.” I start to unzip the bag.

“Wait.” She reaches out a hand to stop me. “I meant I’d like to see it on you.”

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“What are you talking about?” She laughs. “Sounds like you’re thinking of a wedding dress. Even then, it’s only bad luck for the groom to see.”

“Oh, I think you’re right.”

“So, will you try it on for me?”

I could say no, but why? Lauren thought it looked great on me. Maybe Kendall will think the same. “I’ll be right back.”

I’m so excited to see her reaction that it only takes a few seconds for me to wriggle into the dress. I nearly rush right past the mirror in my bedroom, but pause at the last second to give my hair a good brushing. When I’m finished, I inspect my reflection closely. At first, I couldn’t fathom that I had the muscle definition to make the dress work, but on second glance, it’s not too shabby.
Here goes nothing
, I think as I present myself. “Tada!”

She stands and her book falls to the floor, crashing on to the rug with a resonating thud. Her pupils dilate and fix on me. I swear, her gaze is boring into me so hard that I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. It’s like taking a blow to the back with a two-by-four—heavy and alarming in the most extreme way. “What do you think?”

“I think pictures of you in that dress are going to be
everywhere
in two days’ time.”

“Shut up,” I chuckle.

“You only want me to shut up because you know I’m right.” She whistles a cat call at me. “Fashion magazines, look out.”

I snort. “Victoria Westfeld wanted to hire me for a runway show. Can you believe that?”

“Yes, I can believe that.”

“I don’t get it. I’m not nearly emaciated looking enough for that.
Hello
, I actually like to
eat
.”

“Yeah, but you also like to run. It equals out.”

“So what are you wearing to this thing?”

“A sleeveless, powder blue sequined gown. I’m picking it up from De Leche the day of the party.”

“Cool. Want some company when you go pick it up?”

She scuffles in place. “Gunner Roderick is coming with me. He wants his tie and cummerbund to match.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know it was a date.”

“It isn’t,” she says quickly. “The Time Zone Ball isn’t a date either. Lawrence set it up with Gunner’s people. I hardly know him.”

“Maybe you’ll like him once you’ve had a chance to get to know him.”
And knowing you had a boyfriend would be a huge help to me. It might finally sink in that I have no shot with you.

“Possibly.” She pats her tummy. “I’m feeling a little flabby all of a sudden. Think I’m gonna head down to the gym.”

“Okay, loony tunes. You have fun with that.”
Get nice and toned for Gunner
.

“Thanks,” she says acerbically and bounces out the door.

CHAPTER TEN

Kendall

F
ive miles in forty minutes and I’m still going strong. I’m not in the least bit concerned with the fact that my heart is pounding so hard it’s likely to explode, or that there’s a plume of smoke leaking from the treadmill’s motor. I’m going to exercise Payton out of me or die trying.

It hurt more than I thought it would, her coming home happy from a date with someone who wasn’t me. I shouldn’t be hurt. I should be excited for her and delighted that she’s getting involved with someone who isn’t a complete asshole. I’m the one who pushed her to give it a stab with Lauren in the first place. But I’m not excited
or
delighted at all. The only thing I feel is rotten.

I jolt off the treadmill and over to the free weights. Normally, I top out at about thirty pounds, but tonight I’m pushing myself to the max with the fifty-fives. I’m all but completely spent after a few reps with my right arm, so I quickly switch to the left one. If I keep forcing it, I know I’m going to injure myself, but I don’t really care. My forearm is just beginning to burn when my elbow snaps. Right away, a searing pain shoots down my arm and straight through to my wrist. Without a doubt I pulled a muscle somewhere, but whatever. I drop the weight on the rack, hurry down the hall to the ice machine and scoop a bunch of cubes into a towel. I stumble into the elevator with my elbow firmly packed in ice and make my way upstairs.
Damn! I cannot be bruised and swollen on the Time Zone red carpet.
Lawrence and James will take turns scolding me if I’m vilely black and blue in front of the press.

Payton is busy texting someone when I trickle pathetically through the door. She’s at my side in a nanosecond after seeing the state I’m in. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I broke myself,” I kid.

She cradles my arm gently and removes the makeshift ice pack. The inner elbow area is already a deep shade of violet. She gasps at the sight of it.

“Don’t look at it! It’s gross!” I try to pull my arm away, but she doesn’t let go.

“Kendall, stop it. This looks bad. We should go to the hospital.”

“So we can sit in the waiting room for hours only to have some know-nothing doctor tell me he can’t do anything for it? Yeah, I’ll pass. Thanks.”

She sighs. “At least let me put an ice pack on it and wrap it in an ACE bandage.”

“I don’t have either of those things,” I say, sounding like an out-and-out idiot. She’s staring at me with a look of utter disbelief on her face. “What? I’ve never needed them before. I’m not usually this much of a klutz.”

“Yes, you
are
.” She shakes her head disapprovingly as she grabs her keys off of the coffee table. “I’m going to CVS. Keep that ice on while I’m gone,” she commands and is gone before I can protest.