CHAPTER THREE

Sometimes staring at your reflection does not help you see what you’ve become. This was one of those times. I leaned on the tiled counter, hovering close to the glass. Big brown eyes stared back from a face framed with long, dark curls. I looked normal, except for that mark. The pattern grew more intricate and darkened into a violet hue overnight. My fingers slid over it, and felt nothing but smooth skin. I covered it, like Eric told me.

And Jake. God, I was so stupid. Angry with myself, I started tearing through my memories of him, looking for pieces of the guy who attacked me last night. There had to be some scrap of behavior that would have warned me. There had to be.

Three months ago, I saw him for the first time. My friend, Collin Smith and I, were at a community theatre to see Hamlet. I loved the theatre. It was a place to get lost in someone else’s life, and forget mine for a while.

Swinging red velvet curtains swooshed open, while we sat shrouded in darkness. The stage lights came up spilling softly onto the second row, where we sat. Expecting to snigger at bad acting, I was shocked when I first heard him. Dominating the stage, Jake delivered his lines so beautifully; it felt like he was Hamlet. His flowing voice, rich with honey tones, and his sun-kissed body looked like a Greek god. I was mesmerized. Slate blue eyes complimented his complexion, with hair flowing to his shoulders the same color as winter wheat. Smitten, my finger dragged down the playbill, looking for his name.

“Who are you looking for?” Collin whispered in my ear. Raking the playbill, his eyes darted to the stage to see where I was looking.

“That guy,” I whispered. Finding his name, JAKE PETERSON, I flipped to the back of the playbill to read about him.

Warm breath slid across on my neck when Collin whispered in my ear, “Oh no. Is the great Ivy going to be someone’s groupie? I thought you were above that.” Leaning back into his chair, a satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he folded his arms.

Collin Smith was smug and insanely hot. His shiny dark mocha hair fell to a strong jaw, highlighting lips that were usually curled into a playful smile. Combine his startling sapphire blue eyes with his porcelain complexion, and a chiseled chest—well, it was easy to see why he had groupies. His ego issues were the size of the Titanic, and kept us friends - and only friends. At least that’s what I told myself. While his groupies found extreme arrogance sexy, I didn’t.

Looking smug, Collin knew he said the one thing that would make me feel like a stalker. Closing the paper playbill, I set it on my lap, as Collin stifled a muted snort of triumph.

I pouted through the rest of the performance. After the show, Collin ran off to be fawned over by his groupies. Yuck. I cringed. Lemming hoes. I was 5’5” of pure groupie repellant. They stayed away from Collin when I was around. Sitting alone, I slouched back into my chair, flipping through the playbill. Collin was my ride home, so I was stuck waiting.

When I felt eyes on me, I glanced up. Jake was smiling, and walking in my direction. The house lights were up, but the room was dim. The lights gave his frame an ethereal glow. Drinking in his beautiful body, I watched him approach. He lowered his gaze with one step, and with the next he looked up into my eyes with a coy smile on his face. My breath caught in my throat. His light brown hair and bright blue eyes made him appealing, but add the shy guy thing into the mix, and I was pathetically love-struck.

His hand extended toward me, and he said, “Hey, my name is Jake. I was one of the actors in the play.” Gently, I laid my palm in his grip, staring into his eyes. Excitement flared inside of me, threatening to make me sound like an idiot. He lowered his perfect body into the chair in front of me. Everything about Jake captivated me.

I smiled at him, and slid back into my seat, “I know. I saw you.” A super-smile spread across my face. I couldn’t help it. Managing to fold my arms, I resumed my normal defensive position, while trying to subdue an adoring grin. “I’m Ivy. Ivy Taylor.”

“Ivy, I’ve got to know - Why didn’t you like my performance?” Flipping his hair out of his face, he glanced back up at me, and braced himself to hear my answer.

Confusion made me flinch. Why does he think that? How did he even see me? Seeing the audience from the stage was almost impossible. The spotlights were so glaringly bright that the audience disappeared into shadow beyond the first row. We were sitting in the second row. I sat with my arms crossed and scowled at Collin. He saw me. My heart climbed into my throat. Awh, crap. Jake thought I was scowling at him. Telling this guy that I was frowning at him because he sucked was a total lie, but it would let me walk away without embarrassing myself. Or I could tell the truth and admit that I was drooling. Those were both crappy options, so I opted for denial.

“No Jake. I thought you were… great.” Shrugging, I picked up my playbill, trying to hide.

He smiled saying, “Sorry, but it looked like you were in pain. If sitting there and listening to me was that bad—I should quit right now. Seriously,” his eyebrows shot up, adding to his plea. “What part sucked that bad? Was it all of it?”

Feeling trapped, I gazed from one end of the room to the other. Where is Collin? This was his fault. Jake was taking this the wrong way.

I have to tell him. This is gonna suck. “When you came on stage, my heart stopped. Your voice. Oh. My. God. And the way you were saying your lines. It was breathtaking. I started to skim this,” I said holding up the playbill, “for your name and bio. My jerk-friend noticed, and teased me about it. I was, umm, scowling at him, not you.” My face felt hot, and my heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure he could hear it. “Well, as much fun as it’s been—I gotta go.”

Normally, I didn’t tell people stuff like that, but breaking an artist’s confidence was sacrilegious—especially someone as talented as Jake. I jumped up to make a hasty retreat, but he smoothed his hand over mine, rising with me. Hesitating, I looked at him.

His hair fell into his eyes. Smiling softly, he asked, “Ivy, would you like to grab a cup of coffee?” 

We grabbed coffee several times over the next few weeks. I’d wanted him to kiss me after that first date, but he’d insisted on taking things slow. Stupidly, I thought he seemed like a sweet guy, who cared about me. That made the blindsiding attack that bitch-slapped me much worse.

Last night I flew out of my bed, slid out my window, and ran to the park to meet him. Sneaking out was part of my repertoire over the past year. While I ditched most of my juvenile delinquent behavior, I didn’t stop all of it. Ducking out my window in the middle of the night was still a norm. I couldn’t sleep anyway. My mom had no clue. And no one knew where my dad was. Mom was sweet, but she still thought I was a good girl. She saw the girl I had been, and not the one I’d become. It wasn’t unexpected. She had her own trauma to deal with. Hiding my serious crash and burn from her wasn’t hard. I hid it from everyone. Only a few people saw me go down in flames after my sister’s funeral, even less stayed around to put them out, and help me get on with my life.

Jake encouraged my midnight outings, and was always there to walk and talk. A midnight swing at the park was normal, as my nights became filled with less sleep, and more awake.

Last night played out exactly the way he wanted. He lured me there with the one thing he knew I wanted—a kiss. When I arrived, he’d taken my hand outside the park gate, and we walked for a bit. Leaning against a tree, after we’d walked deeper into the woods than usual, Jake pressed his body into mine. It felt good. His fingers brushed across my face, and gently pushed back a stray curl, causing my pulse to skyrocket.

Moonlight cast a lacey pattern on the ground. His face lingered inches from mine. Warm and welcome, I felt his breath on my chilled skin. Tickling fingers suddenly wiggled against my waist. I retaliated quickly. Falling to the ground, in a tangle of legs and arms, we tickled and laughed. It seemed so sweet, and so normal—until I was glued to the ground. How did he turn into the crimson-eyed monster that attacked me last night? Pain like that was unimaginable. I’d never felt anything like that—ever. And I hoped to God, I never would again.

I clung to the few facts I had, and I sighed. Jake attacked me. Eric saved me. And now I had a mark on my head. Accepting that was all I knew made me nuts, but I knew who had the answers. Eric. My strength returned to me over night, and I was ready to hear whatever it was he had to say.

The clock blinked 7:45am. Grabbing my phone, I threw it in my purse, not bothering to look at the screen, and went to school.