The Gravity Between Us (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (21 page)

She holds her dark, enigmatic eyes steady on mine. I’m fairly certain the secrets of the universe are hidden behind the eyes of pretty girls. I’m also fairly certain I’d like to unravel the secrets behind
her
eyes. “Twelve! Eleven!”

As the time dwindles, I remember what’s supposed to happen at the stroke of midnight. Kissing. Kissing Lauren Atwell? Yeah, I can most definitely do that. “Three! Two!”

“One!” I turn to her and frame her face with my hands. “Happy New Year,” I say, then press my lips to hers. She slips her hands into my hair, deepening the kiss intensely. All around us, people are yelling New Year’s greetings. Wispy pieces of paper confetti fall from mid-air and brush against our skin. Somewhere, someone starts singing “Auld Lang Syne.” Absolutely none of it fazes me. In this instant, we are unreachable. We’re kissing each other as though our lives depend on it. I’d forgotten what it’s like to kiss someone and mean it. It’s wonderful.

I break contact with her only once the need to breathe becomes too great to ignore. She inhales deeply and exhales. “Damn.”

I laugh. “I know.”

“Well, now that we’ve made it past midnight, would you like to get out of here?”

I’ve wanted to do exactly that since we first stepped foot inside the place, but I don’t know if she means get out of here as in
get out of here,
or plainly
to leave
. I should make it very clear I’m not
that kind
of girl. It’ll take a few more dates to get me to give it up.

It’s as though Lauren can hear my thoughts. She quickly says, “Wait! That sounded suggestive, didn’t it? No, no, I didn’t mean to imply that we like, you know. I’m just over the excitement. I thought we could maybe go someplace a tad less–”

“Jam-packed with famous folk?”

“With any kind of folk.”

“Can you do that? Take off whenever you want?” Are her obligations fulfilled for the night? She can just go home like it was detention or something? “Where could we go on New Year’s Eve that won’t be packed?”

“There is this one spot I like. It’s on the east side of Palos Verdes. You can see the entire city from up there. It gives the illusion that LA is actually kind of beautiful.” She shrugs. “We could take the limo. I’ll let the crew know we’re leaving. They can take a cab home, they’ve done it before.”

“Okay, but I should find Kendall before we take off.”

She points to the far end of the dance floor. “I think she’s over there. I see Gunner, so she can’t be too far from him.”

I turn and spot him right away. Kendall steps around him into my view. “I’ll be right back. Will you wait for me here? I don’t want to lose you in this giant horde of bodies.”

She grins. “I’ll be right here.”

I’m gradually making my way through the throngs when Gunner spots me. He waves delicately and taps Kendall on the shoulder. She’s caught up in conversation with a small group of fellow megastars. I envision her annoyance at being interrupted as she barks at Gunner. He hints for her to turn around.

As soon as she notices me, it’s like nobody else exists. She doesn’t turn back to excuse herself from the discussion before taking off in my direction. There’s a remarkably dogged look on her face, an extreme determination to reach me. I basically had to fight my way through the crowd, but for her, it parts like the Red Sea. We meet dead-center of the dance floor.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier,” she mutters. “Every time I tried to get away, someone else stopped to talk to me.”

“It’s okay. I figured that would happen.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Yes, surprisingly, but Lauren wants to leave. We’re going to Questa Verdi or somewhere to see the view.”

“Palos Verdes,” she says with a chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve heard the view is nice there.”

“I just wanted to let you know we were heading out.”

She nods. “Okay. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“I will. See you at home,” I say, then turn to walk away.

“Hold up!” She tugs me back to her side. There’s a guise of restrained trepidation on her face like she has something earth-shattering to say but can’t find the words. Maybe I’m imagining that something is wrong, or maybe I’m projecting. Either way, the moment is charged to be sure.

“You want to talk?” I ask, trying to gently nudge her into speaking.

She glances around the room, studies the mass of people surrounding us. “No. I just forgot to say Happy New Year.” She pushes herself up onto her tiptoes, kisses my cheek, and quickly shoves me away before I even have time to get excited about it. “Now go on.” She points at someone behind me. I follow her finger with my gaze and find that Lauren has quietly snuck up beside me. Kendall shoos me away and vanishes from sight.

Lauren smiles. “Hey there, ready to go?”

I sure the hell am. “Absolutely.”

❄ ❄ ❄

Even through the faint light of streetlamps, Palos Verdes looks like something ripped from the blueprints of a fairy tale. The colossal houses stretch from the sides of gargantuan hills. Some homes face the ocean, some face the city skyline, and others are designed to have a split view of both.

The limo parks atop a bluff overlooking the Pacific. I exit the car, and Lauren meets me on my side. She takes my hand and leads me to a quiet perch on the cliff. We sit down, hanging our feet over the outcropping. I allow myself to become enveloped in the sights, scents, and sounds surrounding us. In the distance, the lights of Los Angeles twinkle like stars in the pitch black night sky. It’s all very romantic. I can imagine this place at sundown, the sky resembling a watercolor made from paints with unusual names like
Strawberry Fields
,
Cyan Potion
, and
Marigold Sunshine
.

A while passes before I let myself interrupt the silence. “You were right. It’s gorgeous here.”

She lifts her head from its resting place on my shoulder and looks me square in the eye. “
You’re
gorgeous.”

My stomach flurries. Regardless of what I feel for Kendall, I really
do
like Lauren. Besides the fact that she is beautiful, she’s honest in the most endearing way. She simply is who she is—no pretense, no apologies. Confidence. That’s the most admirable thing about her.

Suddenly it’s like the whole of me completely concaves; I realize how sick and tired I am of being a pathetic, love-sick idiot pining over my straight best friend. It’s self-inflicted torture, and it’s absolutely insane! I’m here in this beautiful place with a knock-out girl who is actually into me. Why shouldn’t I revel in her? Life is too short! Who the hell am I saving myself for?
No one who wants you, that’s for shit sure!
You’ve got the champagne equivalent of beer muscles in your favor, so go ahead and let yourself be that kind of girl. ‘Those kinds of girls’ have more fun.

I move in for the kill, not faltering in the slightest. Our lips meet once and separate slightly, then touch again. “Let’s go back to my place,” I whisper merely inches from her mouth. I should be nervous, considering my complete lack of experience when it comes to sex. But I’m not. There’s something about her that puts me at ease; perhaps it’s her sweet southern charm that convinces me of her graciousness. I know that even if I should fumble around like a clueless virgin—which I probably will—she’ll be patient and kind about it.
No, I am not sacred. I’m cool as can be.

“Or we could go to mine,” she whispers back. “I don’t have a roommate.”

“Yeah, but my place is closer.”
And I want to get this over with before I start to lose my nerve.
I kiss her again.

She laughs into my lips. “Fair enough.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kendall

I
wake up New Year’s Day from an alcohol-induced coma, barely able to focus my bloodshot eyes on anything beyond the end of my mattress. I got so blitzed last night that I don’t even remember crawling into bed. Drinking my face off seems to have become my new favorite pastime. And why wouldn’t it? It helps me forget to care—not just about Payton, but everything else too. When I’m hosed I have no qualms whatsoever about my life. All God’s creatures have their eyes on me? Well, that’s cool! My mother wants to stunt every attempt I make at fully reaching adulthood by treating me like a perpetual child? I’ve got no problem with that whatsoever! Still, I know getting stewed on the regular isn’t a good habit to have; I should stop before it becomes a problem.

Through the haze in my head, I hear that the TV is on in the living room.
Payton’s up
. Even though I’d rather hide under the covers and pretend the entire universe doesn’t exist, I force myself to my feet, throw on a pair of sweats, and shuffle out to say good morning.

I misplace my words when I find that Payton is not alone. Lauren is stretched out on the couch, her head in Payton’s lap. The two of them are watching the
Twilight Zone
, giggling like little girls.
That bitch is wearing Payton’s Deadmau5 t-shirt!
Of all the tees Payton owns, that one is
my
favorite! I’ve worn it so many times before, but never because I needed clean clothes to put on after a long night of screwing Payton’s brains out.
It should be me lounging there, wearing that shirt!

All right, I’ve officially lost my damn mind. There it goes, right out the front door. I decide to follow it, and try to bolt out of the apartment before either of them notice that I’m standing here. Lauren must hear me grab my keys from the counter, because she sits up and looks over the back of the couch. “Hey, girl.”

Rather than say what I want to say, which would be, “Oh hey, whore! Get the hell out of my house,”
I mumble the
second
thing that comes to mind—something about having a day jam-packed with appointments, and then rush out the door like I swallowed a mouthful of speed.

I haul my dumb, dazed ass down to the garage, hop into my car and proceed to drive around to stew in my jealousy. It’s stupid really, that I’m brooding on like this when I could have anyone I want! I’m Kendall goddamn Bettencourt, the best thing to happen to this town since Grace Kelly! Or, so it’s been said. I don’t actually believe that, but whatever. Perhaps it’s time to start acting like I believe it.

I’m half-way to the Hollywood sign when my phone chimes, adding to my already elevated stress level. As soon as I say hello, Gunner is hyperventilating in my ear. “Kendall? Is this a bad time?”

I sigh. “It’s as good a time as any. What’s up?”

“The dry cleaner shredded the damn black and red pinstripe suit jacket that goes with the pants I’m wearing to the New Year, New Hope thingy tomorrow, and I can’t get a hold of my stylist! Man, he is going to bust my balls! He borrowed it from Van Ludwig! Anyway, I need to go shopping, and you know how much I suck at shopping.”

“Whoa, okay. Take a breath. Where are you?”

“I’m at home scratching my ass.”

“Do you have a plain black suit or tux? Either of those would be fine,” I say through my laughter.

“No. I don’t actually own any of the stuff my stylist makes me wear. I get it all on loan. I’ve got a closet full of holey jeans, Affliction t-shirts, and Diesel sneakers.”

“All right. It’s too late to get something custom fit, but I’m sure we can find you a suit off the rack. Meet me at Bourdain’s on Rodeo in twenty?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says and disconnects.

It turns out Gunner is a pretty good guy, after all. We had a nice, long chat last night at the Time Zone Ball about all the wonderful expectations we, as celebrities, have to live up to. He has to be a ladies’ man as much as I have to been seen in public with one, all so no one will suspect that he’s actually a sensitive guy or that I’m into girls—or into
a
girl. Not that I told him about that.

I stroll up to the shop to find him standing on the sidewalk, looking kind of under the weather.

“Thanks. You’re saving my ass.”

“The same ass you’d still be at home scratching right now?”

“Yes,” he says and pulls the door open for me.

“Are you okay? You seem like you’re not feeling well.”

He shrugs. “I’m getting a cold, but what can I do? I’d rather stay home and sleep than go to this banquet.”

“If it weren’t a charity thing, I’d say you could skip it.”

“Yeah, skipping a charity event is an asshole thing to do,” he concurs. He turns to the clerk. “I need a black double-breasted jacket, size thirty-eight R and pants to match, size thirty-two.”

“Look at you, all knowing your size and stuff. See, you didn’t need me at all,” I joke, expecting him to laugh. He doesn’t.

“Do you ever think about bailing on life? The Hollywood life, that is. I do. Sometimes I think about going to college, or moving back to Wyoming to raise horses. It’s like that saying, ‘nothing gold can stay.’ I’m not sure I’d mind much to find out if that were true.”

“I’m still kind of getting used to it, but yeah, I’ve thought about it. Then I remember that life sucks no matter where you are or what you’re doing.”

The clerk returns, suit in hand. Gunner takes it from him and slips into the fitting room. I wait quietly for him to finish. A few moments later, he emerges with the suit on its hanger and a goofy grin on his face.

“I guess that’s the one,” I say.

“Deep down inside you always know when it’s the one, even if it’s hard to tell at first. Or hard to accept.”

“We aren’t talking about suits anymore are we, Master Yoda?”

“We both know what—or
who
— we’re talking about,” he replies as he pays at the register. He heads for the door without saying another word.

“Do we both?” I holler at his back. After a few stunned seconds of silence, I catch up to him outside.

“When Lauren showed up at your place last night? Yeah. It was kind of obvious you wanted to punch her in the face. I figured out why pretty quick.
Ehem.
Payton.”

I click open the car doors, reach for the handle. “Gunner, you don’t know the first thing about it.”