Believe Me, It's You Read online

  His eyes looked so beautiful when they met hers. He put his hand on the doorknob, on top of hers. He bent down and kissed her neck, just below her ear. She felt a slow heat creep up from where his lips had touched to the top of her head. He looked at her for a few seconds and opened the door and left.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She woke up the next morning with Dylan on her mind. She laid in bed until nine o'clock, even though she'd been awake since seven. She remembered the way his lips felt against her neck-soft and warm. She fantasized about how they'd feel against hers. And she thought about how ashamed she felt, getting angry at him. If it's a short fling...if I'm a conquest...I don't care, she thought. I just want to spend time with him.

  She finally forced herself to get up and shower. She got dressed, in jeans and a t-shirt that was old, but still pretty and used to be too tight. It hugged her perfectly now. She did everything but her hair which was way too wet to worry about right now, and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. As she was standing at the sink running water, she thought she heard a scraping sound. She turned the water off and listened. It was the door. It sounded like someone was trying to pick the lock. She walked over and looked out the peep hole. Just as she was putting her eye to the hole, the door swung open, conking her in the head. She stumbled back, tripped on the hall rug, and fell on her ass, hitting the tile hard.

  “Eva, what are you doing?” Paul said.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “You're not supposed to use your key. You can't just come in when you want.”

  “I came for my clubs,” he said, pulling her up by the hand. “Are you okay? I tee off at noon.”

  “Fuck you, Paul,” she said, incredulous. “This is my house and you're breaking and entering. You're not even on the lease, anymore.”

  “Oh god, Eva. Don't be so dramatic.” He was walking down the hall now. “Where's my clubs? They're not in the storage locker.” She walked up behind him, passing him in the narrow hallway. She walked into the spare room and swung open the closet door, grabbing out the clubs.

  “Here's your clubs, now go,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

  “Eva, don't be so bitchy,” he said, lugging the clubs down the hall. “You'll never find a man if you keep acting like this.”

  “File those papers,” she said as he walked toward the elevators.

  “Whatever,” he said as the doors closed behind him.

  She was so furious after he left, she had to pace for a full ten minutes. When the coffee was done, she sat down at the kitchen table. She put her head in her hands and sighed. She felt the sore spot on her forehead and remembered the hit from the door. She got up and went into the bathroom to see what it looked like. She had a reddish purple bruise over her eye. Oh my god, she thought. She put a little concealer on it to see if that would cover it. It sort of did, but maybe not in the sunlight. She took a few minutes to do something with her hair, but it was almost too dry to style, so she stuck it into a ponytail.

  It was almost 11:00 so she sat down at the table and waited for Dylan. That's when she realized how much her ass hurt from taking a fall on the bare tiles.

  At 11:30 she was still waiting. Where was he? Maybe he'd changed his mind and flown back to L.A. He had a private charter, after all. He could leave anytime. Her phone was ringing from the other room. She grabbed it. It was Dylan.

  “Hey, where are you?” she said, slightly pissed.

  “I guess I failed to realize the Chicago marathon is today,” he said. “Traffic is awful. I'm three blocks away, though.”

  “Oh, the marathon! I totally forgot,” she said. “Okay, I'll wait for you.”

  “Promise?” he said.

  “I promise,” she said.

  He was ringing the buzzer fifteen minutes later. She pushed the intercom and said she'd be down. He was standing next to the elevator door when it opened.

  “Hey, you look pretty,” he said and he kissed her cheek. She felt her face get hot.

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling shy and not all that pretty. He was double parked outside her building and she knew which car was his before he opened the door, because it was exotic, foreign, and a make and model she'd never seen before.

  “You're kidding, right?” she said, as he climbed behind the wheel.

  “Pretty sick, huh?” he laughed. “It's rented.” She got in and fastened her seat belt.

  “Scared?” he asked.

  “Terrified,” she said, only half joking.

  “Well, you can imagine how frustrating it's been driving in this traffic,” he said. “I can't wait to get out on the freeway and open it up.”

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “You'll see,” he said. “Are you sure these clothes are old, because you might want to throw them away when we're done.”

  “What?” she laughed. “Dylan, where in the hell are we going and what are we going to do?” He turned onto the on ramp and turned up the stereo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They got off the highway about twenty miles northwest of the city. Between the engine of the car and the stereo, she couldn't hear a thing. Eva hadn't had a chance to grill Dylan on where he was taking her. He gave his turn signal at the beginning of a long paved driveway which eventually led to a huge steel building with an almost empty parking lot. She saw a sign. Paintball.

  “Oh god, really?” she groaned. Dylan laughed.

  “What? Haven't you ever played paintball before? You're gonna love it,” he said.

  “If you say so,” she smiled and shook her head. “Lucky for you, I like trying new things. It doesn't look open, though.”

  “It's not,” he grabbed her by the arm and led her over to the double doors. “Hey. It's Dylan Moore. I'm out front,” he said to someone on his phone. “They're usually closed on Sundays, but I convinced them to let us play for a couple hours.”

  “How did you manage that?” she asked.

  “A couple grand,” he smiled. “They said 'sure'!”

  “I don't know how to play,” she said.

  “I'll show you. It's simple,” he said. A man came and unlocked the doors, holding them open for them.

  “Come on in, sir, good to meet you. Hello,” he turned to Eva.

  “Hi,” she said. “I don't know how to play paintball.”

  “It's easy. I'll get you set up with some guns and pads,” the man was fishing around behind the counter. Dylan gave him some bills and the man handed over the gear.

  “There's restrooms and lockers to your left,” he said. “Have fun!”

  “Thank you very much,” Dylan said, taking her to the first locker room they came to, which happened to be the ladies'.

  “I'll help you get your pads on.”

  “Pads?” she said.

  “Yeah, it hurts when the paintball hits if you don't have pads on,” he said, bending to help her pull on a knee pad.

  “Are you serious?” she said. “I'm gonna get hurt?”

  “I won't hurt you, I promise,” he said. He helped her put the chest and back vest on and buckle it, then he got his own padding on.

  “They don't have neck and head pads, so don't shoot me in the head or neck and I won't shoot you in the head or neck,” he said, showing her the gun. “This is how this works.”

  “I'm going to shoot you?” she said.

  “Probably,” he said, laughing. “Unless I shoot you first.”

  They went out onto the field. “I'm gonna give you a head start because you're a beginner,” he said. “I'll count to ten and you go hide. If you get lucky, you might be able to ambush me.”

  “Okay! Start counting,” she said, running. She turned two corners, and ducked behind a large box made of plywood. She sat as still and quiet as possible and in a few seconds, she heard his feet falling in a run, directly past her. She peeped out and took a shot at his leg, missing by a few inches. She ducked back into the box and ran out the other end. He was backtracking to where she'd been h
iding. She hid behind a cinder block wall, waiting for him to figure out where she'd gone. Once again, he ran past her and she was able to lean around the wall and take aim. She barely missed his left leg. She didn't wait for him to notice where the shot had come from. She took off back around the wall and behind another. She was standing, silent when she heard footsteps coming up behind her. She ducked out and ran, hoping to make it to a plywood box on the other side of the field. She was stunned to feel a sharp pain in the left side of her ass. She felt the sting. She dropped to her knees, feeling defeated and pissed off.

  “Hey, I got you,” he said. “Sorry, I was aiming for your leg. Hurts like hell, huh? Are you okay?” He came up next to her and offered his hand to help her up, but her face was buried in her hands.

  “Eva, are you alright? Are you crying?” he put a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to look at her face. “I'm sorry, I know it stings.”

  She had no idea why she was crying. One minute the ball hit her ass, then the pain came and she remembered how much it hurt when she fell in the hallway that morning. Then she remembered how much she'd let Paul hurt her. She felt sad-sorry for herself, and pissed.

  “Eva, I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have shot you in the ass. I'm sorry.” She was trying to stop crying, but she kept her face covered so he couldn't see it.

  “Let's go in,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her up. He led her into the locker room and she sat on the wooden bench. He took off her pads and sat down beside her.

  “Are you alright? I know it hurts...”

  “It's not the shot,” she said, wiping her eyes. He got up and went into one of the restroom stalls. He came out with a wad of toilet paper and handed it to her.

  “What is it, then?” he asked, leaning down in front of her and looking up at her face as she wiped her eyes. She sighed.

  “This morning before you came..Paul came over to get his golf clubs and he used his key, so I was trying to see who was at the door,” she sniffed again, trying to get her normal voice back and lose the sniffles.

  “He used his key?” Dylan was looking up at her.

  “Yeah, he's not supposed to. But I had my face in the door to see who it was and he opened it and pushed me back on my ass and---”

  “He pushed you?” his eyes were dark.

  “No! He didn't push me, the door did and I lost my balance and fell back. My ass got bruised I guess. When I got hit by the paintball, I guess it just reminded me how angry he makes me and--”

  “What's this?” he asked, looking at her forehead. “Did he hit you?”

  “No!” she said, remembering the bruise on her forehead. “The door hit me.”

  “Are you being honest with me?” he said.

  “Yes. I swear,” she said. “He just comes and goes and does what he pleases. He insults me and calls me names and doesn't think anything about how I feel. I'm just sad and hurt and—pissed.” He put his hands on her knees, still looking up at her.

  “He's an asshole, Eva,” he said. “Don't you know that?”

  “Yeah, I know. I don't ever want to see him again,” she sighed. “I want this divorce thing over.”

  “If I ever hear anyone call you a name, I'll deck them, Eva. I swear,” he said. She smiled.

  “Thanks, Dylan.” They laughed. “He's hardly worth it.”

  “You are,” he said. “Let's go home, okay?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  He drove to the car dealership and returned the car. The salesman tried to sell it to him. “No thanks, man. I've already got one in L.A.,” he said. “Can you call us a car?”

  “Sure, I've got a mechanic who can give you a lift if you don't want to wait for a cab,” he offered.

  “Sure, that'd be great,” he said. He went to the car and pulled his bags out of the trunk.

  “Let's go get the rest of my cake, okay?” he said.

  “Sure,” she smiled.

  The mechanic was star struck the entire ride home.

  “You must love all the girls screaming,” he joked, watching Dylan in his rear view mirror as often as was possible while driving.

  “Yeah, my fans are great,” Dylan said, looking out his window.

  “My daughter loves you,” he said. “She wanted to go see you at the All State last January, but I couldn't get tickets.”

  “I'm sorry, man. I would have hooked you up if I knew you then,” he said.

  “Aw, she would've loved that!” the driver smiled. They got to Eva's building and Dylan handed the driver a wad of bills.

  “No, you keep it. It was no big deal,” the driver said.

  “No, please take it,” Dylan held out the money.

  “No, not a big deal,” the driver turned away.

  “Well, wait a minute then. You got a pen?” he asked. The driver handed him a pen.

  “What's your daughter's name?” he asked.

  “Elizabeth,” the driver told him, curious and watching him. He scrawled something across a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the driver.

  “Oh, she's gonna freak out when she sees this!” he said, taking the bill and reading it.

  “Tell her thanks for being a fan,” Dylan said.

  “I will. Thank you.” The driver looked touched.

  “Thank you, sir,” Dylan got out and helped her out. Then the driver popped the trunk and he got his bags out.

  When they got into her apartment, she turned to him.

  “That was really nice,” she said.

  “The guy gave me a ride,” he said.

  “The whole thing was nice,” she said. She went into the kitchen and tried to figure out how she was going to wrap up his cake for him. She settled on a plate with foil over the top. Then she went into the living room where he'd already sat down on the couch.

  “I fixed your cake for you,” she said. “Hope it makes it.”

  “Thanks,” he said. He was quiet. She was in the practice of leaving the room when Paul got quiet because that was usually a good sign he wanted to be alone to think. She sat tentatively on the arm of the couch, opposite end of him.

  “I'm gonna have to go in about an hour, I guess,” he said. He leaned back against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Do you want something to eat? You've got to be hungry,” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. She went to the kitchen and fixed him a sandwich. She brought it to him and put it on the coffee table. He sat up, eating it.

  “Don't you want anything?” he asked.

  “No, I'll make something later,” she said. “I”m not that hungry yet. Do you want something to drink?”

  “Sure, milk if you have it,” he said. “No, wait, water. I forgot I'm in the studio tomorrow.”

  “You can't drink milk?” she asked.

  “No, it makes my voice sound congested,” he said.

  “There's so much I don't know about you,” she said. He looked at her.

  “I'll tell you anything you want to know,” he said, finishing his sandwich. “So what do you want to know?”

  She laughed. “I don't know. If I think of anything, I'll ask.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Will you promise me one thing?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Promise me you'll call a locksmith tomorrow and get the locks changed,” he said.

  “Alright, I will,” she said. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

  “Okay, that'll make me feel better,” he said. “And promise me you won't cry over that clown anymore.”

  “Oh okay, I thought of something,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” he said.

  “Something I want to know about you,” she said.

  “Anything,” he said. She paused for a minute.

  “Do you not think it's—do you not care that I'm so much older than you?” She stammered, feeling stupid.

  “Calvin said you were thirty-two,” he said.

  “Yeah, I'm not even going to ask what you and
Calvin were doing discussing my age. But don't you think that's a big difference? Twelve years?”

  “Eleven,” he corrected. “I don't think so.” She looked at him then laughed.

  “No?” she said.

  “I think it works for me,” he said, laughing. “Honestly, I haven't thought much about the age thing.” She nodded, still doubtful.

  “Okay. I have another question,” she said. She felt an urgency to put it all out there, here and now. “What do you want from me?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “I mean you could have anyone. Anyone. What do you want with me?” She was aggravated he didn't get it.

  He got up and took his plate into the kitchen. She followed him as far as the dining room and waited for him to finish. He walked over and stood close to her, so close she was pinned between his warm body and the table. He put a hand on either side of her on the table and leaned in, close to her face. She could feel his breath on her face. She could smell his scent, mixed with his cologne. He kissed her forehead where the bruise was. He kissed her cheek and worked his way around to her mouth. He pressed his lips against hers and took her breath away. When he pulled away, his eyes were closed. He backed up and leaned against the wall opposite her.

  “I had a dream about you,” he said. His eyes were still closed. “After I first met you at Cap's party. I can't stop thinking about you.” She walked over to him and put her hands around his waist. She looked up and he opened his eyes. She ran her hands under his sweater, watching his face. She let them skirt around the bare skin of his waist and up his bare back. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. She moved them to his chest, feeling the hard smoothness of it. He lowered his head and found her mouth. His lips pressed into hers, and the tip of his tongue found it's way between her lips. He tasted sweet. He put his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. She could feel the button of his jeans pressing into her belly. His hands found their way inside her shirt and left a burn everywhere they touched her bare skin. She pulled back from his mouth. He moved towards her lips again, but she stepped back.