The Story of You and Me (3 page)

“Stop!” Alejandro grabbed my wrist and pulled my hands away from my face.

I smacked his hand. “You stop! What are you doing?”

“I don’t care how tired you are. You’ve got to be careful with your face. Have you taken your drugs, yet? Where are your drugs?” He grabbed my purse and rifled through it. “You need to swallow a damn pill and apply those cremes to your cuts.”

“You’re overreacting. I don’t have any cuts on my forehead or my hands. Just a few on my face and my head.” When exhaustion rolled over me like a big monster truck. “I totally appreciate everything you have done for me. I’ve officially passed tired and am headed toward a coma.” I lay down on the concrete porch, pulled my knees up into my chest and rested my cheek that had the fewest wounds on my forearm.
 

His eyes widened. “What the hell are you—”

“The drugs are in the zippered side pocket inside my purse. That’s where I keep the important stuff I don’t want to lose.”

He unzipped my purse’s side pocket and pulled out the creme. “You will not spend your first night in L.A. like this,” he said. “You cannot lie down on a stranger’s front porch, in a strange city and go to sleep. They’ll find your body in a dumpster tomorrow or next week. And then because I helped you—I’ll be the main suspect. It’ll be on all the news shows. ‘Local young man’s the main suspect in pretty midwestern girl’s demise. News at ten.’”
 

“You’re a dork,” I said. “Perhaps the reporters will say, ‘Alejandro whatever-his-last-name-is was
never
a quiet young man. He didn’t keep to himself enough and too frequently intervened in the business of others. But the ladies seemed to like him something fierce. Although he banged too many stupid girls, he seemed to have a kind heart and he was a good driver.’ Nighty night, Alejandro.” I smiled into my forearm.
 

“You can’t do this! The writers from
Law and Order: SVU
will copy this case and some bit actor who longs to be on the CW Network will play my role.” I squinted one eye partially open and observed as he twisted open the cremes, squeezed a little of each onto his index and third fingers. “I hate those shows.” He leaned in toward me.
 

Oh crap, he was delicious.
 

I tried to keep my breathing regular. Not stop breathing. Not inhale with a loud gasp as he touched my face. For a big guy with large hands, I was shocked at how gently he dabbed the ointment onto my cuts.

I closed my eyes. Every place he patted my face tingled. I flushed and felt warm all over: from head to toe. From heart to groin. But then I felt something almost miraculous. Something I feared was lost for good.

I felt safe. I felt protected.
 

“Sophie? Wake up! People don’t just curl up on other people’s front doorsteps unless they’re homeless or a little crazy.”

“Maybe I’m a little of both right now.” I stretched my arms overhead and felt a few thorns prick my hands from the rose bushes in the tiny garden next to the front door. When out of the corner of my eye I spotted a small scruffy dog poke its head around modern brightly colored curtains in the living room adjacent to my apartment and bark in a squeaky soprano.

I lifted my head. “Gidget?”

Alejandro frowned. “Sorry?”

I pushed myself to kneeling, flipped through my key ring. I found a different key—almost identical to the other one, shoved it into the lock and turned it. The door clicked open like magic. “Oh hallelujah! This is my place! Yay!”

Chapter Three

I groped the wall next to the door and flipped on the lights, illuminating my tiny crash pad. “Gidget’s my new next-door neighbor’s dog. I’m home! I’m home!” I wanted to dance, but instead twirled around the incredibly small living room that featured a beat up love seat, an ancient recliner chair and some area rugs on the scuffed hardwood floors.

“Hang on.” Alejandro stepped inside my door and looked around. “You’re not supposed to be doing activities like yoga, or dancing or roller coasters or—”

“Twirling? The doctor didn’t say anything about twirling.” I was so incredibly jacked to be home. Even though technically my real home was two thousand miles away from this pricey step up from a closet that sported yellowed polyester lace draperies.

 
I honed in on his confused but happy face. This impossibly gorgeous young man was standing in my living room and looked like he didn’t know what to do next. A couple of years ago I might have been super brave and offered him a suggestion like, “Shut up and kiss me.” But a couple of years ago I was a completely different person. “Thank you heaps, Alejandro. For catching me. For driving me. For making me go to the ER. For helping me find my home.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Happy to help a tourist in need. In fact, I could show you around town—”

“I’m not a tourist. No time. I’m here for the USCLA summer session.”

That statement was kind of true.

“What are you taking? A required core class? Then catching a tan and learning how to surf? I can teach you how to surf, you know.”

“I’m taking Genetics 300 level with Professor Schillinger. I’m not the best swimmer in the world. In fact, I suck at it. So, thanks but I’ll hold off on the surfing lessons for now.”

“Genetics 300. Guess you’re not just a pretty face.” He grabbed my purse, pulled out the bottle of antibiotics, popped the childproof cap open and shook out one monster-sized pill. He walked into my kitchenette, opened the fridge door and peered inside. “Do you have any bottled water in this place?”

“I have nothing in this place but my luggage,” I said.
 

He sighed and looked at the pill in his hand. “I’ll be back in five.”

“Tap water doesn’t scare me,” I said. “Another thing about midwestern chicks.”

He cocked his head and eyed me like I was a little nuts.

I pointed to the kitchen sink. “Feel free to fill a glass with L.A.’s finest.”

He did. He handed me the glass of tap water and the pill. I took it from him and swallowed it. I shuddered.

“Tap water sucks.”

“Tap water’s fine. It’s the monster scary pill that sucks.”

“It’s healing,” he said.

“According to you,” I replied.

“Professor Schillinger is the smartest, coolest professor on campus. I can help you with your swimming. You just need to get in that ocean water and paddle around for a bit. Get your confidence up. Once you do that, I can get you up on a board in no time, Bonita.”

Drinking tap water and swimming and genetics and surfing. Two were the truth and two were a lie. I was so freaking tired I was practically hallucinating. And now I had to find a way to say goodbye to the most handsome guy I’d ever met.
Oh suck it up, Sophie. You are no stranger to tough times or stubborn Alpha Boys. Just get rid of him already.
 

“Hey Alejandro?” I asked.

“What?”

“You know where I live. You know my name. You know where to find me.”

“True,” he said. “But, I’m not a stalker type. Got too much on my plate. Too many things I need to get done. Tonight, with you, has been kind of an exception for me.”

Not the answer I expected.
But I nodded like I completely understood. “I need to crash. So thanks and good night.” I took his hand, stroked the base of his thumb and sighed.
This was one of my signature bye-bye moves. It worked with every single Alpha Boy I’d ever met.
“Maybe next time we meet, you could tell me a little bit more about you. I’d love that.”

Especially considering I never planned to see him again.
 

“Agree. You’ve had a hell of a day, and you totally need to sleep.”

Alejandro was a total pushover. He was cake.
“Thanks for understanding.”

“Oh, I definitely got it.” He squeezed my hand, placed his other hand on my forearm and pulled me toward him.

“Um?” I frowned as my face came within an inch of where the narrow part of the V started in his T-shirt. I was breathing into his chest that was so wide and strong, I felt dwarfed next to it.

“I can’t leave yet, Bonita.”

“Yes, you can. You have to.”
 

He placed his finger under my chin and tilted my face up toward his. I had no choice but to look up into his ridiculously gorgeous hazel eyes rimmed by long black eyelashes. Take in his high sharp cheekbones, the way his thick black hair was tucked behind his ears, and the fact that he would not take his eyes off me. And I wondered two things. One. Could you hate a guy for being too hot? And, two.

Why now? Why after the past eighteen months was the Universe, God, a Higher Power, the Fates handing me this tough card? I had enough tough cards to build a tough card deck. I had so many important things to accomplish in L.A. And unfortunately, getting involved with Alejandro wasn’t one of them.

“I just have one more thing to do before I leave,” Alejandro said.

He did not just say he had
“
one more thing to do
”?
I was so punchy I giggled.
 

“Hey! Stop laughing. You just popped open one of your cuts. It’s bleeding again. God dammit, Sophie! I’m serious.”

“Okay. Okay,” I said. “You’re serious. What’s your one more thing? Lay it on me.”
Oh craptastic with the sexual innuendoes.
I started giggling again, tried to shut it down but instead, snorted. Well if nothing else could get rid of this guy, I bet snorting while laughing would totally do the trick.

“Just one more simple thing. After that, I promise you—I am out of here.”
 

“Your one more simple thing does not involve anything the good ER doctor said I couldn’t do?”

“I promise. He never mentioned this.”

* * *

My sublet was, just as Alex suggested, old. The apartment complex had probably been built sixty years ago. The walls painted over dozens of times with multitudes of colors ranging from eggshell white to eggshell blue to eggshell yellow. The oversized kitchen sink was accented with small spider vein cracks in what was probably the original porcelain. I leaned forward over the vintage Spanish tiled counter with the discolored grout. My head dropped forward into the sink while Alex stood next to me and massaged shampoo onto my beer soaked hair.
 

“Okay,” I said. “I think you got it all out.”

“I poured the shampoo on your head five seconds ago.” He leaned in a little closer and pressed his leg, hip and then his torso firmly against me. “Keep your hands around your face. Like a mask. Or a shield. We don’t want this sudsy stuff to get on your cuts.”

I fidgeted. “Are we done yet?”

“No. You still smell like a brewery from a block away.”
 

“Maybe you need to go a block away and try that smell test again,” I said. “Why does everyone call you a driver?”

“Because I’m a Designated Driver. A couple of my friends and I do this to help fellow students.” He turned the water back on and rinsed my hair. “I don’t drink anymore. Don’t do drugs. Everyone knows I’ll drive students and their friends home if they’ve had too much. Or take their keys if I have to. As long as they don’t abuse the privilege. Just like what happened tonight.”

Interesting. Alejandro wasn’t your typical college party boy.
 

He leaned his face into my hair.
 

“What are you doing?” I blushed and prayed he wouldn’t notice.

He pulled away from me. “While I have nothing against Coronas—you still smell like one. Just one more wash.” He poured more shampoo onto my head and massaged my scalp. “I will never understand how you women tolerate this stinky stuff.”

“In defense of girls everywhere, I have five words for you,” I said.

“What?” His nails scratched gently on my scalp and I suddenly understood why Gidget the dog liked her ears rubbed.

“Axe body wash for men.”

He rinsed off the shampoo. Thoroughly. So thoroughly I calculated how many ones I had in my wallet to tip him. “Thank you. That’s great. Now I don’t have to go to bed with beer head.”

“Or pop your cuts open. Again.” He’d managed to find a towel somewhere, and dried my head with it while I was still bent over the counter, my head in the sink.
 

I was getting used to this head-rubbing thing. This felt pretty darn good. After all the stress of today, I figured I should at least make the supreme effort to stay awake and take this kind of attention for another hour or so. But he wrapped the towel around my head and tucked in the corner like a turban.
 

“Head out of the sink, please.”

I heard the sound of a chair scraping across the linoleum floor.
 

“Sit here. Are you woozy? I’ll guide you.”

“Um…” I wasn’t woozy. I was in love. Okay, I wasn’t in love. I was simply infatuated. Truth be told, I just needed him to do this head-scratching thing for a bit longer. “You forgot the conditioner,” I said. “Thank you so much for getting rid of my beer-head, but you totally forgot the conditioner. It’s because you’re a man. And I’m not sure if men even use conditioner. But girls do. And it’s super important. And if I don’t get conditioner, my hair will—”

Alejandro’s phone belted “Gimme Shelter” by the Rolling Stones. He yanked it from his pocket and looked at the message. “Sorry, Bonita.” He strode toward my front door. “It’s an emergency. The conditioner will have to wait.”

     
And just like that? Alejandro was gone. And my first day in L.A. had officially ended.

Chapter Four

I walked out my door the next morning and nearly tripped over a bouquet of white daisies jammed in a mason jar filled with water. Next to it was a small sealed white envelope. I opened it and pulled out a greeting card. On it was a cartoon of a man who stood next to a dog that had a perplexed look on his face. The man pointed to a well. “Get well!” was inscribed in the dialogue bubble above the man’s head.

Dear Sophie:

Hope you’re feeling better. Meet me at the Grill tonight? I want to see your beautiful, dairy queen face.