Chapter 27 Ripley
Ripley
I’m dreaming about my bed at home, the dregs of sleep still holding tight to me in the wee hours of the dark morning, when there’s a rapping at my window.
I roll over, snuggling deeper into my warm bed, but the noise won’t stop.
Tossing the blankets off, I turn to the culprit – the window.
Assuming it’s one of the many trees that line the property, I get up and pull open the drapes, only to find Garrick’s face staring at me, illuminated by the light of his phone.
Yelping, I yank the curtains closed.
‘Juliet, “what light through yonder window breaks” …’ His muffled voice comes through the closed panes.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I grab my oversized sweatshirt off the dresser and slip it on. Mom keeps it blazing hot, so I’m only in a tank and shorts. I bite my thumb, frowning as I stare at the dark fabric blocking Garrick from view.
Garrick is at my window. Why is Garrick at my window?
Do I want him at my window?
My mind spirals as I study the sliver of light peeking through the drapes. The apartment is quiet. Mom is engaged in the blissful six hours of sleep she gets each night. I learned a long time ago not to interrupt her.
‘Juliet!’ Garrick’s singsong voice flitters into my dark room. I know him well enough to know he will not just leave of his own accord.
I level him with a glare when I open the curtains again. ‘What are you doing?’ I hiss so Mom won’t hear. My warm breath fogs up the glass, obscuring our view of each other.
‘Let me in, please. It’s cold.’ He can’t be that cold. Pulled over his ears is a gray beanie, while a striped red-and-green scarf is knotted around his neck, topped with his favorite red puffer jacket.
How do I know it’s his favorite? I guess I’ve learned more about Garrick Walton than I realized.
I cross my arms. ‘No,’ I say with a sly smile. ‘You made the choice to climb up a tree in the middle of the night and bother me. Time to live with the consequences.’
‘It’s not night. It’s –’ he glances at his watch – ‘four a.m.’
I start to close the curtains again, knowing we have a full day of filming ahead of us and I don’t want to start it with a pounding headache from lack of sleep.
‘Wait.’ His hand splays against the window, fogging it up with his body heat. ‘I want to show you something.’
Tugging at the bottom of my sweatshirt, I ponder this predicament I never thought I’d be in.
Guys showing up at my windowsill with mysterious offers is not a problem I thought I’d face.
A weird buzzing covers my skin, my heart reacting with increased beats.
‘Could it not wait until the sun is up?’ I focus on logic to quell the stirring in my stomach – the familiar curiosity that can only lead to trouble.
In this case, trouble is spelled: G-A-R-R-I-C-K.
‘Nope,’ he says matter-of-factly. I bite my lip as he produces his best puppy-dog smile. ‘C’mon, Juliet. I know that curious mind of yours is dying to find out what I’ve got up my sleeve.’
I roll my eyes. Ugh, I hate that he’s right – that he knows me well enough to be so confident in that statement.
Pro to going outside: I get to know said something.
Con: It’s dark and cold.
Pro: I’ll be with Garrick, and each day I find myself wanting to do that more.
Con: Wanting to be with Garrick when I really shouldn’t be.
I’m unsure where my better judgment has gone because I say, ‘Fine. Meet me downstairs in five.’
I scramble to get dressed in something warm before running to the bathroom as quietly as possible.
I brush my teeth while running a brush through my hair.
As I head outside, I slip on my coat and Garrick’s favorite pink earmuffs.
The morning air is like a truck hitting me – the cold penetrating my exposed skin like a knife.
I almost think about going back inside, but Garrick is standing there with two steaming red-and-green cups and a goofy grin.
‘Coffee?’ He holds it up, and I wrap my frigid fingers around the warm embrace.
The liquid smells of butter toffee on top of cinnamon with the bitter afternotes of espresso. After taking a few sips, I finally feel alive enough to speak. ‘Where are we going?’
‘This way.’ He turns, having waited patiently for me to get my caffeine hit, and heads toward the back entrance of FTG. ‘Don’t worry, I already told the security guy we were going to be out here when I brought him a few cannoli cookies I whipped up.’
‘You were that confident I’d agree to leave my warm bed?’
He gives me a shameless smile and a shrug.
It’s foggy, giving a moody vibe to the park.
It hides the rest of the world from view, and as we emerge into the castle grounds I could almost believe it was real: that we find ourselves in the fictional land of Carpathia, and a valiant knight will emerge from the large wooden doors and enlist us to join him on a quest.
At least that’s what happens in Molly’s storybooks.
‘I want to take you on a ride.’ Garrick sips his coffee, looking over at me with a cautious gaze.
I stop mid-step. ‘Seriously? Is that what this is?’ I spin around to head back to my bed. I should have known this was a bad idea.
‘Wait.’ He grabs my hand, and I ignore the flutter in my chest. ‘I know you said you hate theme parks, which, ouch, but I want to show you the park I see. When no one is here.’ Any hint of the made-for-screen knight is gone.
The boy looking at me isn’t a reality star or a theme park icon – he’s just Garrick.
I pick at the cardboard sleeve surrounding my cup. ‘I don’t like heights or being confined in a seat.’ I’m exposing a part of me, chipping away at the armor I wear for the world.
He ducks so I can see his face from my downward gaze. ‘No heights or seat restraints, I promise.’
And I believe him.
I look back up. ‘OK, but if I hate it, I’m out of here.’
‘Deal.’ He puts out his hand to shake. ‘But you won’t.’ His smile is so cocky I should roll my eyes, but I find myself returning the grin instead. I put my hand in his, and it’s warmer than the coffee, sending fire into my veins.
I break away before I want to, sipping my scalding beverage as a distraction, hoping I can use it as an excuse for my racing heart.
‘Mood music?’ He stops at a panel near the castle and flips on the lights first. I’ve seen the park at night with all the Christmas lights, but with the fog and no one else here, it’s a new experience.
The way the swirls of mist twist and turn around the outer edges of the lights gives them a dramatic glow.
Everything feels cast in a dream, like I’m in a retro film where everything is soft and clouded.
I expect Christmas music to start when he turns on the speakers, but instead, another ‘Juliet’ song starts playing.
‘I have a playlist,’ is all he offers in return. Last week, I would have made him shut it off right away, but I don’t this time. The idea that he spent who knows how long finding songs with my name in them is kinda sweet – romantic, some fools might say.
We stare at each other, waiting for the other person to speak. My body feels full of caffeinated butterflies zooming around, not just in my stomach but under every inch of my skin.
I break the stare first. ‘So, you often wake up at four to wander around the park?’
Garrick closes the panel, shoving his hands in his coat. ‘I didn’t wake up. Never went to bed.’
He starts walking and I jog to catch up. ‘How are you still functioning? This shoot is wearing me out, and I’m at least getting six hours of sleep.’
He shrugs, and I see a tension in his jaw that I’ve never noticed. I’ve hit a nerve without realizing it. ‘I don’t sleep well these days. Not since …’ He looks down at his feet.
I think about leaving it be, but I like seeing Garrick like this – the knightly facade cast away. ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a parent.’ My dad might not be around, but I can still call him.
Garrick clears his throat. ‘Sleeping is hard because I forget.’ He looks at me, cheeks pink from the cold.
‘Like I’ll dream about her, and when I wake up, for those first few seconds, I think she’s still here, and then it all crashes down.
It’s easier if I stay awake. Then I don’t have to remember again. ’
My heart cracks in my chest. Without thinking, I reach for his hand. He slides it into mine, squeezing it. I don’t know what to say to make it better. I don’t think I can, but I want to try. ‘I’m usually up studying, so if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m around.’
The softest smile I’ve seen graces his face, and my knees almost give out. ‘Thanks, Juliet.’
And for the first time, I don’t hate how my name sounds coming out of someone’s mouth.