49. Grey
Chapter 49
Grey
M aple and I are the only two people on the dance floor so early in the evening. Pop music is playing through two large speakers at the far end of the space and neon lights are passing over our faces. The empty space is odd and a little eerie, and it gets even weirder when Maple begins dancing along on the comically bare dancefloor, unabashedly and quite terribly.
“How are you related to Aspen?” I ask in awe of her lack of self-consciousness. To be honest, she could probably use some.
“Believe me, I wonder that too,” she replies, throwing her head back and forth jerkily to the beat.
In all seriousness, I can see the resemblance. It’s obvious to see that Willow and Aspen are sisters—hell, they could almost be identical twins—and I think that might take away from the fact that Maple also carries a strong resemblance to them both. She has the same tall, lean frame as her sisters, an undeniably ‘Jordan-y’ face, blue eyes, and blonde hair.
“So, what makes you think you deserve my sister?” she asks, taking me aback yet again. Her blind fearlessness, in all things apparently, is definitely un-Aspen-like.
“Um,” I stutter, unsure what the right answer to this question is.
Maple raises an appraising eyebrow, somehow looking intimidating while dancing horrendously.
“She’s nice.”
“Nice?” Maple repeats, making me feel like somehow I got the question wrong.
“Yeah. She’s kind and sweet and always puts others before herself. She’s quiet and shy at first glance, but once you get to know her she shares her huge expanse of creativity and heart. I like that she brightens any room she walks into, that she treats everyone equally, whether they’re worth a single dollar or a billion dollars. She’s empathetic, perceptive, and idealistic. I like that where I’m jaded, she’s open-minded, where I’m impulsive, she’s thoughtful, and where I’m scattered, she’s focused.”
“Hmm,” is all Maple says in response. Damn, I thought I gave a pretty solid answer.
“‘Hmm?’”
“What are your intentions with her?”
“My intentions?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Oh. Um…to date her?” It was meant to be a statement but it comes out as a question.
“That’s it?”
“It’s been like a week. I feel like if I said marriage I’d seem crazy.”
“So you don’t want to marry her?”
“I do—of course, I do. If things go well, marriage sounds great. I’d love to marry Aspen. I just don’t want to seem too hasty.”
“Do you want kids?”
I rub the back of my neck, realizing sweat is starting to pool under my collar and my hands are clammy. Jesus, I’m terrified of a teenage girl, even though I’m a head taller than her and could probably bench three of her at once. But the look in her eyes is straight sinister, with an obvious dark pleasure brewing behind her stony glare. “We haven’t talked about that.”
“I didn’t say her, I said you.”
“I’d love kids,” I stammer out like a dunce.
“You don’t have any, do you?”
I scoff. “No.”
“Good. And no past wives or anything?”
“No.”
“Why did your last relationship end?”
“Differences? I don’t know.”
“So it was your fault.”
“What? No, no, definitely not.”
Maple’s eyes narrow. “So it was her fault?”
“No, that’s not—I didn’t—we just grew apart, that’s all. It was short and a long time ago. I don’t know. What I do know is that I didn’t feel anything for her like I feel for Aspen.”
“And you’re British?”
“No, I just put on the accent for fun sometimes.”
I cringe as Maple straightens her spine. So much for lightening the mood with a quick joke. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if Maple pulls out an interrogation lamp and a notepad at this point—she’s stone cold.
“I’m sorry. I meant, ‘Yes, I am British,’” I correct, after a few seconds of silence from Maple.
“That’s what I thought. So, how do you plan on splitting your time between Aspen in the US and your country?”
“Most of the projects I work on are in LA, so I’m here the majority of the time. Bond is the only one that films in the UK a lot. I’d be down for long distance or to move Aspen out with me for a few months while I film—maybe she could even get a project in the UK too, to overlap.”
“Okay.”
She continues dancing, side eyeing me. That’s the freakiest part of all this—the girl is dancing away as she makes a grown man shake in his boots.
Finally, I gather the balls to ask, “So…do I meet your standards?”
“No. But you’re close enough, I guess.”
I force a chuckle. “You’re the scariest Jordan by far, Maple.”
“Duh. Why do you think I’m the one interrogating you?”
Just in time to save me from having to formulate a proper response, I feel a hand clap me on the shoulder, turning to see Piers, accompanied by Julie.
I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging. “Oh, thank God. Maple, meet Piers and Julie, my brother and sister-in-law.”
“Hi,” Maple says, all icy assessment and blatant skepticism leaving her face, a broad smile taking its place. This girl should be an actress too, damn.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maple,” Julie says. “Where’s your sister? I’ve been looking forward to meeting her for months. Grey here just can’t seem to shut up about her.”
“Yeah, let’s go find her,” I suggest quickly. Usually I’d push back on the “I can’t shut up about her” thing but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. I can’t stand to spend another second with Maple without Aspen here to referee. Maple’s like a cat who’s cornered her prey and is now playing with it, seconds away from pouncing, and I’m fucking terrified.
“Great idea,” Maple says, as though she wants to get away from me .
I silently remind myself to tell Aspen later that her little sister is the stuff of nightmares. Bloody hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually do have nightmares about her.