The Gravity Between Us (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (8 page)

The thought distresses me so much that I drop her hand straightaway. She pretends not to have noticed how swiftly I pulled away. There’s this emotion on her face I can’t quite place—not exactly freaked out, but nowhere near calm, either.

“Okay, girls.” Mom’s voice puts an end to the moment. “Dinner is served.”

❄ ❄ ❄

Kendall presses the C4 key on the piano. “Middle C.”

“Good. What comes after that?”

Her finger lingers over the next white key. “D,” she says and presses it. “EFGABC,” she plays the remainder of the C Major scale and exhales.

“Nice.”

“Will you play something for me?”

“No. This is your lesson, not mine.”

“I know, but I’d like to hear something other than random notes and unfortunately, that’s the best I can do at the moment.”

“Fine,” I sneer. “What do you want me to play?”

She flips through one of my staff notebooks, stops on a half-finished composition temporarily titled “This Might Not Suck.” “This one,” she points. “It looks like it sounds very angry with all those notes and slashes everywhere.”

“It’s not finished yet, though.”

She tilts her head, like ‘yeah, so?’

“Okay. Put it there.” I gesture to the music shelf on the top of the piano. She places the book down, already open to the page she wants me to play. I begin slowly.

She’s wrong about it sounding angry. It sounds incredibly sad. It’s in B-flat minor, like a modernized Adagio for Strings only nowhere near as remarkable. When it ends, I catch her staring at me. “Yes?” I question.

“Holy wow.”

“Shut up.” I knock my shoulder into hers.

“You have to finish it. Promise me.” She touches my forearm. “I want that in one of my movies someday.”

“Get out of here.”

“I’m not kidding, Payton,” she says, poker-faced. “It’s beautiful and I want it finished, so please finish it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer sarcastically. Her expression doesn’t change. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Do you think I’d joke about having your music in one of my movies? I could make it happen, you know. With the right scene, there isn’t a music supervisor in the industry who wouldn’t love to use that piece.”

Okay. All I’ve ever wanted to do with my life is make music for films, but the notion that it could ever actually happen is overwhelming. “I will finish it.”

She smiles. “Excellent! Well, now, I feel utterly impotent. I think that’s the end of the lesson for tonight.” She stands up and heads for the front door.

“Same time tomorrow?” I’m not about to let her quit on me again.

“I can’t tomorrow,” she says disappointedly. “James is going to e-mail me that screenplay in the morning. I have to read it and give him my decision and any script notes by tomorrow night.”

“Friday?”

“Absolutely not! We will not be doing any work at all on your birthday, comprende?”

“Got it. Want a ride home?”

She shakes her head. “It’s a nice night. I feel like walking.”

I look at her skeptically. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

“I’d like you to keep your butt on that bench until you’re done writing the rest of that song,” she answers as she reaches for the doorknob. “See you Friday.”

❄ ❄ ❄

I wake up Friday morning to my mom sitting on my bed. She’s holding a chocolate cupcake with a lit candle stuck in the middle. The cupcake thing has been a birthday tradition since I was a little girl. Every year, Mom rouses me from peaceful slumber at 7:12 to commemorate the exact moment of my entrance into the world after forty hours of hard labor on her part.

“Happy birthday,” she says and kisses my forehead. “My baby is all grown up.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I blow out the candle. “I’m really not that grown up though.”

“You’re not married with children yet, but nineteen is pretty much an adult.”

Maybe it’s because my brain is only half-awake that I am unable to stop myself from completely ruining my whole day, but the second I process the phrase “married with children,” verbal diarrhea begins. “Mom, you know I’m gay, right?”
Holy flaming crapballs! Did I really say that out loud?
Oh my god, I want to hurl myself off the closest, tallest building and fall to my doom.
What a tactless imbecile!

She laughs. She just flat out laughs. I am categorically dismayed, and she is laughing!
What the hell is so funny?
“Oh, honey, I know.” She pats my head. “But, thanks for telling me. It certainly took you long enough.”

I’m baffled. “Are you
kidding
me? You’ve known all this time?”

“You’re my kid. I pay attention,” she replies baldy, like it’s the most obvious thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. “I’ve watched you beat yourself up about it for years. I was waiting for the day you’d finally realize that there’s nothing to beat yourself up about.”

“Mom,” I say, suddenly petrified. I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “I think I’m gonna end up alone.” If I keep going the way I’m going, I’m definitely gonna end up alone.

“Oh, Kiddo. Just hang in there. Someday you will meet somebody who is as crazy about you as you are about her. It’ll happen when you least expect it, trust me.”

“I don’t care about someday.
Someday
doesn’t exist to me. All I’ve got is right now, and right now, I’m…” Do I tell her about my feelings for Kendall? No, not “feelings.” Anything that hurts this much can’t be generalized in the classification of “feelings.” Being in this much agony can only mean one very specific thing. I’m flat out in love with her. “Right now, I’m so screwed up.”

“All right, that’s a bit vague. You know what I think you should do? I think you should try expanding your social circle. It’s great that you’re still friends with the same kids you grew up with, but there’s a whole wide world of people out there you haven’t met yet. You have to be open to meeting those people, exploring what they have to offer.”

So that’s the solution? Go into the world, meet new people, and everything will be roses and sunshine? That’s helpful.
“Sure. I’ll work on that. Thanks.”

She smiles and thumps my leg with her knee. “Good. Start right now. Get out of bed and go do something fun with your day.”

Right, do something fun.

I
forego my mother’s suggestion and instead hole up in my room, strumming my guitar with the amp turned up as loud as it can go. I pause now and then to scribble down chords that strike me as sounding anywhere close to good.

❄ ❄ ❄

Kendall shows up at my door twenty minutes before nine. I nearly pass out—not because she looks incredibly sexy in her silver off-the-shoulder top, skin-tight black mini skirt, and knee-high leather boots, though that’s as good a reason as any—but because this is the first time in her whole life she has ever been early for anything. “Sorry I’m early. I wanted to make sure you were dressed appropriately.”

I check my reflection in the hallway mirror. I’m wearing light jeans that hug me firmly at the hips but fan out into bells at the bottom, a fitted baby blue polo that clings to my curves in all the right places and shows the perfect amount of skin at my midriff, and a crisp, new pair of white Pumas. I’ve even taken the time to straighten my hair and put on some eyeliner. This is about as dressed up as I get, with the exception of weddings and funerals. I think I look all right.

Kendall examines me for a moment then takes my hand. “Twirl,” she says. I fire a questioning look at her. “No interrogation. Do as I say.”

I spin around slowly. “Do I meet with your approval?”

“Yes.” She reaches for my hair and rolls a few ends around her index finger. I tremble. “You should wear your hair down more often.”

“Maybe I’ll start to.”
If you keep playing with it like that, I will gladly give up my signature ponytail for the remainder of my life
.

“Good. You’ve passed inspection. We can move on. Are you ready?”

As long as you’re standing next to me, I’m ready for almost anything.
“I think so.”

“Marvelous.” She ushers me out the door.

I expect to see a rented BMW or her dad’s Mercedes parked in the driveway, per usual. But she’s leading me toward a long, glossy stretch limo, complete with blacked-out rear windows and a suited-up driver ready to open the door for us. I’m at a loss.

“Your chariot awaits,” she turns to me.

“Are you
sure
I’m dressed okay?”

She chortles. “I’m positive. I wanted you to have the star treatment tonight, that’s all.”

Seriously? I am excruciatingly aware that she doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do about her, but sometimes the incredible things she does for me make me wonder what she would do for someone she’s actually in love with.

“I don’t deserve…” I try to get a full sentence out, but she covers my mouth with her hand.

“Do
not
say that to me.” She drops her hand to her side. “You’re the best friend I could ever have. You deserve more than I can give you.”

Oh, man. I am going to cry. There is no escaping it.

“No!” She points at me. “No crying on your birthday. Not even happy tears.”

I wipe at my eyes and nod. “Fine, then no more sappy stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “Get in.”

We get into the limo. Kendall pulls out a thin, dark cloth and folds it long ways. She holds it taught and reaches for my head. I freeze upon recognizing it.
It’s a blindfold.
I grab her wrist. “That is
so
not gonna happen.”

“Yes it is,” she counters. “It’s part of the plan. You can’t see where we’re going. The mystery is half the fun!”

I shake my head, more than reluctant to oblige. “No.”

“Come on. Don’t you trust me?”

Of course I trust you. With my life, I trust you.
“All right, damn it,” I relent.

She wraps the cloth around my head and ties it just so. “Can you see anything?”

I shake my head back and forth, up and down. “Not a thing.”

“Perfect,” she says and pushes me back against the seat. I can feel the warmth of her palms on my shoulders through the sleeves of my shirt, the heat of her breath against my face as she leans over me. Her long, soft locks brush against my cheek, and I can feel myself blush. I’m aware of every movement she makes and of the airy, fresh scent of her perfume. It’s like I’m in sensory overload, compensating for my lack of sight. Even though I can’t see her, I can still tell she is unambiguously spellbinding.

We drive for a while. My anxiety grows with every passing moment.
I’ve got to do something to take the edge off
. “Sarah called me earlier,” I blurt out. “She said something cryptic about missing me, and told me to tell you that you don’t play fair.”

She snickers. “Playing fair is overrated. Feel free to tell her that is my official response. I’ll have a press release drawn up for you.”

“If you’d take this blindfold off, I could text her.”

“Nice try.” She knocks her knee into mine. “Relax. We’re almost there.”

“Where’s ‘there’?”

“Payton! Stop trying to get it out of me! Would it kill you to let yourself be surprised, for once?”

Surprised for once? I’ve been plenty surprised as of late. In fact, I think I’ve had enough surprises to forever satisfy any sense of adventure I may have had.

The car comes to a staggering halt. The hinges squeak as the door opens. Kendall takes my hand, guiding me from the car. “Watch your head,” she gently palms the top of my skull to ensure that I don’t bang it against the doorframe. I hear her heels click-clacking against asphalt. “I told you we’d be here soon.”

“Cool.” I try to swallow my discomfort. “So why do I still have this thing on my face?”

“Have you always complained this much?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been blindfolded before.”

She slips her arm around my waist. “A few more steps.” We walk a bit more, and then she stops me. “Okay,” she says and undoes the blindfold.

We’re standing in a dark room. All I can see is Kendall, eyes wide and glued on me.

“Now!” She yells out enthusiastically. And I’m blinded by bright fluorescent lights. It takes my pupils a minute to adjust and focus on my surroundings. We’re standing alone in a music store I’ve always wanted to go to but could never afford, surrounded by instruments and electronics that are beyond my wildest imagination. In the center of the store is a recording studio display filled with microphones, monitors, computers, sound boards and various instruments. In the middle of the studio setup, there’s a small table with two place settings, a silver serving platter and a bottle of champagne. I must be deeply asleep, because this is the sweetest dream I’ve ever had. I can feel Kendall’s gaze all over me, which is the only reason I know this is real.

I walk across the room to the table. She follows.

“We’re having dinner in Ralph’s Music City? How the hell did you swing this?”

She grins. “I’m amazing, didn’t you know?”

Yes, I have always known that.
Everyone who knows Kendall Bettencourt knows that. “Seriously, though, how did you pull this off?”

“I made a few calls, asked if I could set up a quiet meal for two after they’d closed for the night. I had to swear on my unborn children that we wouldn’t spill anything, so let’s try to keep it tame.” She smirks. “Are you happy?”

“If I hadn’t got chastised for crying earlier, I’d be a sniveling heap right about now.”

“Happy tears though, right?”

“Absolutely.” Then I’m hugging her so tightly that I can feel her heart thrashing against her ribcage. She’s holding me again, the way she did that night when she shared my bed—only this time, both of us are completely awake.

She lifts her chin from my shoulder and looks at me in a way I’ve never seen her look at me before. “Happy birthday.”

It’s a test of my strength not to kiss her. And I mean it is taking every last bit of willpower I have. “Thank you,” I reply in a near whisper, then force myself from her arms and pull a chair out from the table. “Sit,” I motion to her.

❄ ❄ ❄