Sway

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

A couple of mornings later as I scrambled some egg whites with spinach, my phone rang. Unknown number. I put it to my ear with one hand while my other hand scraped the eggs in the pan with a spatula.

“Hello?”

“Ava Elliot?” The voice on the other line was deep and unfamiliar.

“Yes?”

“I win.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s Gage. From the club the other night? We danced together.”

The spatula almost slipped from my hand. “Oh right. Gage. How’d you get my number?”

“I have my ways,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

Oh brother. “Well done.”

“Actually, you’d never believe me if I told you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Oh no. It’s too soon for that.”

I sprinkled pepper over my eggs and dumped them onto a plate. “For what, honesty?”

“Secrets.”

“I’m not ready for secrets anyway.” I grabbed a fork and took my breakfast to the table.

“Are you ready for me?”

This guy spoke in pick-up lines.

“Come out with me today,” he said when I didn’t answer.

I hesitated. Told myself not to be so cowardly. “Sure. Okay.”

“Excellent.”

We made plans to meet. When I hung up the phone, I listened to my heart pounding double-time. I’d come home to LA wanting to start over. The Philharmonic was step one. Gage made a great step two.

* * * * *

I met Gage in a park nestled amongst a well-to-do community. Tall trees shaded picnic benches, the grass was lush and green, and a garden of well-groomed wildflowers lay in one corner. Two children sat at the edge of a pond with their mother, feeding breadcrumbs to the ducks lazily swimming in the water. Other than them, Gage and I were the only ones there.

He was waiting for me, leaning against a tree in a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He had a James Dean vibe going on except for his hair—dark brown and almost buzzed. I parked my BMW and grabbed my purse before getting out.

When I reached him, he broke into a smile. “You look even more beautiful in the light of day.”

I fingered the hem of my lace shorts. “So, is this Frisbee at the park?”

Gage lifted a blanket and canvas grocery bag from the ground. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I nodded. Nerves had taken over before the date and I hadn’t been able to eat anything.

I followed Gage to the middle of the lawn and helped him spread out the blanket.

“I know it’s not very original,” Gage said when he sat down. “But I thought this was the best way to get to know each other.”

I didn’t know what to expect from this guy, but it hadn’t been this. He pulled two ready-made salads from the bag and two forks.

“Greek or taco?” he asked.

“Definitely Greek,” I said, sitting across from him. I took the offered salad and popped the lid off. The smell of crumbled feta filled my nose and my mouth watered.

“So.” Gage handed me a bottle of water. “Ava Elliot.”

“So. Gage McCheesyPants.” I arched an eyebrow.

“Johnson.” His eyes on me, he crumbled taco chips over his lettuce.

“Gage Johnson.” I ripped open the dressing packet and poured it over the salad. “What do you do?”

“I’m a model and an actor.”

It figured. Those lush lips and eyes could sell anything. “Have I seen you in anything?”

He shrugged. “I’ve done some commercials, some guest-spots, that’s about it. I’ve got a few big auditions coming up.”

“For what?” I took a bite of salad, enjoying the mix of veggies, dressing and cheese in my mouth.

“A lead role in a new HBO show. A smaller part in an action movie. And a recurring role on a soap.”

I murmured my praise around the food in my mouth.

“What do you do? Besides looking insanely cute with salad dressing dripping down your chin.”

I blushed and wiped my face with a napkin. “I play the piano.”

“As a job?”

“Hopefully.” I went on to tell him about performing with the orchestra and my search for a teaching job. “I just moved back here so I haven’t figured everything out yet.”

“From where?”

“New York. I’ve been at Juilliard the past eight years.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That long?”

“I had a lot to learn.”

He put his empty salad container aside and sidled up beside me, stretching his long legs next to mine. “Did you miss home while you were gone? Miss your family?”

When I’d left LA, I was angry at my family. I blamed them for my break-up. Blamed my dad and Aunt Rose for giving me doubts about Eric. Blamed my entire life for pushing us apart. It took me a while to wise up to the fact that the break-up had been my doing alone. The only thing I had missed was the memories of my mom at Kellynch. And Eric. I missed him like crazy at first. Over time, I forgot that I was supposed to.

I couldn’t tell Gage all that. “A little,” I said.

“You have sisters right?”

“Yeah, two.” I froze mid-chew. I hadn’t told him that.

“And your dad’s an actor?”

I eyed Gage warily. “Did you Google me or something?”

He laughed. “No.” He shot me a sly glance while I waited for him to explain. “Your dad is Walter Elliot.”

Okay, he was starting to creep me out a bit. “How do you know this stuff?”

“My dad was an actor on the same soap. The Time of Our Life.”

“He was?” I leaned back on my hands and stared at him. “How did you find that out?”

“They used to be friends. My dad told me a long time ago.”

“Used to be—?”

“It’s fate. We were meant to meet.”

“Oh really?”

He ran one finger lightly down my neck. “Don’t tell me that doesn’t thrill you, just a little.”

I swallowed under his touch. “That is yet to be determined.”

He did his now-famous lip-pucker. I resisted the urge to lean in just so I could see how those lips would feel.

“So what did you do for eight whole years at Juilliard?” he asked. His eyes locked with mine and didn’t let go as I told him about my life in New York. I was surprised by how interested he seemed, how little he talked about himself. He devoured every little fact I gave him, and came back eager for more.

An hour later, we were both lying on our bellies side-by-side. He was telling me a story of a photo-shoot gone wrong and I laughed into my hands, determined not to snort in front of him.

“The snake is completely wrapped around my leg and squeezing.” Gage clenched his hands around one thigh in demonstration. “The photographer is yelling that he can’t get the shot and my leg starts turning purple. So one of the models tries to pry it off but it just hisses at her. And then, I think the snake decides he’s had enough of us and wants to hide. So it does—under my loin cloth.”

“No!” Tears leaked from my eyes and I shook my head, begging him to stop.

“I felt so…violated,” Gage said between his deep rumbling chortles.

“Admit it, you loved it.”

His laugh tickled my ears, his teeth gleamed white in the sunlight. Too white, but I ignored that.

My laughter died when he reached out his finger and swiped my tears away. His hand moved from my face to my hair. He slowly pulled strands through his fingers. My heart pounded like a timpani, light and fast. I watched his lips part, the tip of his tongue snaked out and wet his upper lip. I wanted to taste it.

We leaned into each other. His mouth brushed against mine and my eyes closed as our lips melded together. He cupped my cheek with one hand. I trailed my free hand up his chest, my fingers light and trembling. When my hand reached his neck, I pulled him closer. Our tongues met. He tasted like spice and heat and my whole body trembled for more.

But I pulled back. He opened his eyes and slowly licked his lips. My face felt hot.

“I forgot,” he said, his deep voice reaching an even lower octave.

“Forgot what?”

“Dessert.” He sat up. I followed suit as he pulled another container from the grocery bag. He opened it up to reveal a gooey, chocolate brownie bigger than my fist. It smelled divine, like ovens and aprons and my mother’s smile.

“I don’t usually eat stuff like that,” I said, rather regretfully.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just this once?”

Gage took a bite, the chocolate smearing over his mouth. I felt another stab of want, for both Gage and the brownie. Or both at once.

“You’ve convinced me.”

Later, when our mouths met again, the taste of chocolate mixed between us. The kisses were velvety and hot and we begged each other for more. It was a long time before the flavor left my tongue, and even longer before it left my memory.