Chapter 5 #2
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I grumbled, pushing away from my desk. I’d tried to be patient with the reporters, I really had, but their constant badgering was driving me crazy. I stormed down the hall, and a picture of Mom, Rose, and me rattled against the wall.
“If you don’t get off my property right now, I’m going to call the police! I’m not doing an interview!” I shouted when I threw open the door. “What don’t you people understand about that?”
“Felicity?”
I froze.
That voice. I knew that voice. It was sexy and deep—a sound I wouldn’t easily forget.
My hands dropped to my side, and I stared at the person standing on my porch.
There was a baseball hat pulled low over his face and a pair of sunglasses hiding the spectacular color of his eyes, but I knew who he was in an instant.
And he was no reporter.
***
“Alec?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”
He flinched and glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected one of the reporters who’d been stalking me to jump out of the bushes. “Hi,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t entirely sure why he was here either. “Sorry for showing up without any warning.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, but I was glad Mom was at work. What would have happened if she was the one who’d opened the door? Suddenly her voice whispered in my head—boys like that only want one thing—and a flush crept across my cheeks.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.” I leaned against the doorframe, trying to look casual. Because teenage celebrities stopped by my house all the time. Obviously.
Alec shifted his weight. “Do you think… I mean, may I come in?”
I hesitated. There was the choice I knew I should make…
and the one I wanted to make. Mom’s shift was ending soon, and I didn’t want her to come home and catch him here.
There was no house rule forbidding me from having boys over while she was gone, though for Rose, it had been an entirely different story.
However, I had a strong feeling Mom wouldn’t approve of Alec after our earlier conversation.
And the last thing I needed was to give her another reason to think I was starting to act like my sister.
But Alec seemed on edge, and when he looked over his shoulder a second time, I couldn’t leave him standing on the stoop. “Yeah, okay,” I said, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.
I moved out of the way so he could step inside, and he quickly brushed past me with a quiet thanks. I closed the door before turning to face him, and when our gazes met, that was when it hit me—Alec Williams is in my house!
After a few seconds of us staring at each other, he had yet to say anything. Wasn’t he the one who came to see me?
“So…” I said, as he pulled off his hat and fixed his hair. “I suppose we can talk in my room?”
For a split second, I considered leading Alec to the living room instead.
If Mom did come home, it would be better if she found us on the couch than in my bedroom.
But I’d been folding laundry in front of the TV before Asha and Boomer came over, and it was still spread out across the carpet.
The last thing I wanted was for him to see a collection of my bras or, worse, the pair of pink lace underwear I knew was at the top of the clothing pile.
As we walked down the hall, I twisted my watch around in circles and prayed for my insides to stop quivering.
When we passed the bathroom, I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My hair was piled on my head in a messy bun, and I had on a Team Luca shirt, complete with an image of shirtless Gabe Grant.
Asha had loaned it to me and insisted I wear it for the finale tonight.
I was praying Alec wouldn’t notice, but once we were in my room, he tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile.
I crossed my arms over Luca/Gabe. “What?”
“Immortal Nights fan?”
“Believe it or not, no. My best friend is obsessed enough for both of us.”
“Uh-huh,” he responded, turning in a circle to inspect my room.
I could tell from his tone that he didn’t believe me, which was slightly embarrassing, but then he spotted my closet door, and I learned the true meaning of the word.
There, taped next to a picture collage of Asha, Boomer, and me, was a Heartbreakers poster.
It was from the band’s first album, Dance till Dawn, and all four boys looked like babies.
Oliver Perry, the lead singer, had long, floppy hair, while Alec looked a least a foot shorter than he was now.
As if he didn’t see the poster, Alec glanced away quickly, and I was glad we were pretending it wasn’t there. Because really, how awkward was it that I had a picture of him in my bedroom?
He wandered over to my desk, which was on the opposite side of the room from my closet, and examined the bead jars that were lined up in order of the rainbow.
The sun streaming in from my window made the colorful pieces shine like the plastic pegs of a Lite-Brite.
When he noticed the necklace I was working on, he leaned over for a better look.
“It will be a bird when I’m finished.”
He tilted his head. “Why a bird?”
“Homage to my favorite book.”
I nodded toward my shelf. On the top row was a collection of my favorite novels: The Scarlet Letter, Fahrenheit 451, The Catcher in the Rye, and so on.
The books used to belong to my father. Besides the fact that he was a lawyer, the only thing I remembered about him was that he had a soft spot for American literature.
I’d discovered the box of books when we moved out of our old house and hid them underneath the clothes in my suitcase so Mom wouldn’t find out.
I don’t remember why I wanted them. Maybe it was to remind myself that the man actually existed.
Whatever the reason, I was glad I’d kept them.
If I never learned anything else about my dad, at least I knew we had one passion in common; we both loved reading.
“The one on the far left,” I said and pointed. “Can you grab it for me?”
Alec reached up and carefully pulled down my most prized possession. As he did, his shirt rose up, giving me a glimpse of his bare skin. My insides flip-flopped, and I quickly averted my gaze.
“Felicity?”
“Huh?” I was still thinking about that flash of stomach, but then I realized he was offering the book to me. “Oh no,” I said, holding up both hands in a you-keep-it way.
“To Kill a Mockingbird,” Alec said, reading off the title. “I think I was supposed to write a paper on that, but I never ended up reading it.”
“You blew off the assignment?” I asked, both amazed and appalled at the same time. I never had the balls to ignore my schoolwork. It made me feel antsy.
He shrugged. “I wasn’t much of a school person.”
“You don’t have to be a school person to enjoy the book,” I told him. “If you ever have the time, you should read it. It’s a classic.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said, inspecting the cover. The main image on the dust jacket was a tree printed against a red-brown background. I always thought it was the most elegant of all the Mockingbird covers, even if it was rather simple.
Although it was worn, my copy was probably worth a couple grand. There were only five thousand first edition first printings in existence. If I couldn’t save up enough money for college, I’d probably have to sell it, and the thought made my heart hurt.
He opened the book, and his lips parted as he paged through it.
“How many times have you read this?” Every few pages were dog-eared.
It drove my mom crazy when I did that. She liked to keep her novels in top condition, as if they’d never been opened, but I was of the opinion that books were made to be loved.
I smiled. “Once or twice.” In reality, I’d read the book so often I could recite full passages by memory.
“And you don’t mind reading it over?” The upward curve of his eyebrow suggested an unasked question: Isn’t that boring?
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Have you ever listened to a song on repeat?”
His grin was slow and wide, and I could tell he liked my music comparison. “Yes,” he answered. “I suppose I have.”
Alec tucked To Kill a Mockingbird safely back in its spot on my shelf before resuming his typical, quiet state of being.
I watched as he continued to explore my room.
When he reached my dresser, he paused. The top was dedicated to my jewelry.
I had three fake crystal bowls filled to the brim with rings, a huge clamshell to put my earrings in, and mounds of necklaces and bracelets piled everywhere else.
“Did you make all this?”
“Yup.”
He picked up a chunky purple earring, turning it over in his hand. “You’re good.”
“Thank you.” Pride ballooned inside my chest, and it made me feel bold. “Want me to make you something?”
Not waiting for an answer, I sat at my desk and grabbed a spool of brown leather cord.
Where are the scissors? My hand hovered in air as I looked around for them, until I finally spotted a pair peeking out from underneath the pile of magazines.
After cutting a few pieces, I tied them together at one end and started working.
When the back of my neck prickled, I knew Alec was watching over my shoulder.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked without looking up.
“Orange,” he answered.
For some reason I was surprised, but I reached for a jar of faceted agate beads in both amber and a rust color. We were quiet for a couple more minutes, and then Alec cleared his throat.
“Is this your family?”
He pointed to the picture frame hanging above my desk.
It was a rare photo of all four of us—Mom, Dad, Rose, and me.
In fact, it was the only one I had. The picture was taken when we went to Disneyland for my birthday.
I didn’t remember any of the trip, but five-year-old me looked pretty pleased with herself perched on top of her dad’s shoulders.
Shaking my head, I glanced back down at the leather wrap. “It’s just me and my mom now.”