"What are you talking about, Jared?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Just trust me when I say it would be best for him to leave La Push," Jared said, his voice lowering every second. As if someone was listening to us. Then he kind of mumbled to himself, "Maybe it'll skip him altogether or…slow it down…"
"Slow what down?" I stepped closer to him. He instinctively moved away from me. "What's going on? Talk to me."
He blew out a harsh breath as he looked around again. "I can't…I can't tell you what's going on. Can you just listen to me? I know you guys go on your little road trips. Take him somewhere for a week…or two. Just go, please."
"Jared," a deep voice boomed from the west of us, deep into the trees. We both looked in the direction of the voice and saw Sam as he stepped into our line of sight, wearing these strange cutoff jeans shorts and no shirt. His face was hard as he shook his head at Jared. His eyes darted to me and they softened for a fraction of a second. The guilt washed over his face quickly before he jerked his head back where he came from. "Let's go," he said to Jared.
Jared opened his mouth to protest before just nodding. Before he walked away, he looked at me again and said as quietly as he could, "He's my brother, Lee. Help him."
What did that mean? What was he talking about? Why are he and Sam hanging out in the woods? I had a million questions and I realized fairly quickly that I wouldn't get any answers to them. As I stumbled out of the woods, Paul was walking back from the car, slipping his phone into his pocket. When he saw me, he smiled and threw an arm around my shoulders. He kissed me on the forehead as we began to walk to the beach. "Are you alright, love?" he asked.
I nodded mindlessly. "Yeah…" I said, feeling confused and a little uneasy.
Uneasy or not, I took Jared's advice. The next week, we left for Boston. It was the first time either of us had stepped foot on a plane. He was fearless; I wasn't. I gripped his hand the entire time we were off the ground, eyes glued to the window.
The city was beautiful, filled with ageless architecture and countless people. Never had I heard a stronger accent than that of the locals. We stayed in this adorable bed and breakfast in Cambridge and drove everywhere in the city. I had an interview with the admissions counselor at Boston University while Paul took his tour of the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts. I wanted so badly to be there with him while he took in his possible future, doing what he loved, but he insisted that he would be just fine by himself.
I wish I could say that Jared wasn't lingering in the back of my mind the entire time we were in Boston. I didn't want to worry Paul with what he said, so every time Paul asked me what was wrong, I would tell him that making a decision was stressing me out. We had a full month of traveling ahead of us, nonstop. Hopefully, whatever Jared wanted me to keep Paul from was over. Or slowed down. Or whatever he said.
To my surprise, Sam's name popped up on my phone a couple of times that week. After I didn't answer the first three times, he left the most cryptic voicemail, saying: "Hey Lee Lee, uh, it's Sam…duh…you already knew that. I, uh, was thinking about you yesterday and, uh…can you give me a call back? You've just been on my mind a lot lately and, um, I want to make it right. I think you deserve some answers so…I really need to talk to you. Just you though! I…this is Sam. Ok, bye…"
There was nothing Sam could say that would make it right though. I didn't even want it to be right; at least not his version of right. It felt like every minute we were away from La Push, the closer we were to cloud nine. We would sleep in late and have brunch at this cute little place in Cambridge. Paul was the perfect gentleman the entire time, never once looking out of place or wishing we were back home. I was right. He was too big for La Push.
Our time in Boston came to an end all too soon. Then we were on our way to New Orleans. Our late-night flight was filled with whispered conversations and stolen kisses in the dark cabin of the plane. "I never want to stop doing this with you, Lee," he whispered to me, brushing the stray hairs from my ponytail away from my face.
"This is just the beginning," I told him. I meant that with everything in me. I wished that was enough.
So we ate our way through New Orleans. Gumbo and po'boys and shrimp and grits. We danced our way down Bourbon Street, and it was the most photogenic place I had ever seen. The colorful buildings decorated with beautiful greenery. Street performers blasting music from their horns. Happy couples dancing through the streets and everyone was either drunk or high on life. Just like us. We were patiently waiting our turn at Café Du Monde, the air filled with the delightful smell of fried dough and powdered sugar. "I can't wait for you to try this, Lee. It's going to change your life, I know it," Paul said, his one bouncing in excitement.
I giggled, "What about your life?"
"My life has already changed just by sitting in here," he told me. "This place is famous for their beignets."
"It's just like a donut, right?" I asked, watching a plate full of them go by. "Or like a funnel cake?"
"Bite your tongue," he scolded me. "A beignet is an experience."
Right then, our curly haired waitress came by with a tray perfectly balanced on her hand. "Two beignets, a café au lait, and a water. Anything else I can do for y'all?" she said in her chipper Southern accent. Paul thanked her with a bright smile, stopping her in her tracks a little before she scurried off to the kitchen.
Like a tourist, I pulled out my camera and staged our plates, snapping a few pictures. He chuckled at me as I started to point it at him. His smile was contagious; my favorite sight in the world. Paul started to gaze out the window as I continue to snap pictures of him, getting that gorgeous side profile. I lowered my camera and just admired him for a second. If we could do this every week for the rest of our lives, I would be totally fine with that. "Don't be weird," he teased, facing me again. His amber eyes looked even more golden as the sun touched them.
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. "I don't think I've ever seen you this relaxed before," I told him honestly.
He shrugged, "I got my girl, I got good food. What else do I need?" He scooted my plate closer to me before picking up his own beignet in his hands. I followed suit and we bit down at the same time. It was like an explosion of flavor in my mouth. It was dense and light at the same time. The dough was perfectly fried and there was the slightest drizzle of honey on top of the powdered sugar. "Holy shit…" Paul said in amazement.
"Oh my god," I moaned. "That might be the most amazing thing I've ever had. Besides your cinnamon buns, of course."
"No, these are definitely better than anything I've ever made," he shook his head as he took another bite. He sighed, dusting powdered sugar from his hands. "I really like it here."
"Me too," I nodded, staring at my plate. Tulane was a gorgeous campus, and everyone had been so friendly. "I love everything about this place. The colors, the music, the culture…"
"But?"
I didn't feel like there was room to be picky at this point. School was starting in a few short months and I still hadn't made a decision yet. I honestly thought that when I stepped foot on campus, I would just know instantly. I would say: yes, this is my new home. But that hadn't happened yet. Boston was fun, but I was so focused on the numbers and the programs that I couldn't focus on how the school made me feel. And now, here in New Orleans, I was falling more in love with the city than where I would be taking classes. I couldn't see myself living here.
"Lee," Paul reached over and put his hand over mine. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
His skin was still warmer than normal, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. "It's stupid," I brushed it off.
"Nope, we're not doing that. Come on," he said. Paul reached down and pulled my chair until I was right next to him. He draped his arm around the back of my chair.
I looked down and picked at my nails. "I haven't had the feeling yet," I told him. He cocked his head curiously, waiting for me to explain. "You know, that feeling that everything about the place is perfect. Like the place you've been longing for and you didn't even know it. The place you can imagine yourself for more than just college, but after too. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love New Orleans. This city is so beautiful, but…"
"But you haven't found everything you're looking for," he finished for me. "It's ok, Leah, that's completely normal."
"Is it though?" I looked at him. His eyes were soft as he nodded. Paul gently ran his fingers down my arm before leaning in to place the most tender kiss on my lips. I blew out a breath, nervously when we parted. "What if we get to New York and that's not the place either?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Have a little faith," he told me, winking. "But I have a good feeling about New York."
He was right. As soon as we landed at JFK, the air felt different. It was electric, buzzing. We tried to keep up with the mad rush of people as they made their ways to their connecting flights and loved ones who were waiting outside the gate. I waited for that moment where I was uncomfortable at how big and unfamiliar it was…but it never came. Instead, I was looking at everything with the widest eyes and the most excitement I'd ever experienced. Paul entwined our fingers as he lifted his other hand to hail a cab. His eyes were sparkling.
New York was busy and the streets were dirty and the people were moving so fast around us that it wasn't uncommon for us to bump into people as they passed. Horns blared in the standstill traffic. The sense of urgency was overwhelming. And I was loving every single second of it. Even the graffiti was beautiful. The buildings were so tall, taller than anything I'd ever seen in my life. And I found myself wondering, as people passed, what their stories were. Who were these people? Where were they going?
"So I'm thinking, tomorrow after we get done with school stuff, we can meet up in Central Park and then go get lunch," Paul said, after we checked into our hotel. He dropped our bags at the door before collapsing on the bed. My parents sprung for two beds…even though they knew we wouldn't be using the second bed. I'm surprised they didn't spring for separate rooms.
"That sounds great," I said, reaching for him. He was just an inch too far away. He rolled over until he was facing me, our noses touching. "Thank you for coming with me," I whispered.
He pressed our foreheads together as he said, "I'll go anywhere with you."
We spent the night just being together. He spent hours learning every single part of my body. He knew my body better than I did. I think everything in the past six months was just melting away from me, the longer we stayed out of La Push. We were both happier, more relaxed. Other than Sam's weird voicemail, I hadn't thought about him or Emily at all since we'd been gone. In that same vein, I hadn't checked in with Rachel or Rebecca either. I didn't love that. I didn't want for us all to leave for college and not talk.
I remember waking up sometime around 3 in the morning. The sound of a loud fire truck siren passed our window, the red lights illuminating the entire room as it passed. Paul's heavy arm slipped down my waist as I moved to sit up in bed. I didn't even realize I fell asleep. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I knew I wasn't going to go back to sleep. Paul looked like an angel at peace beside me; I didn't want to disturb him. I carefully slipped out of the bed and stretched out before slipping on my jeans and shoes. We had been traveling so much, this was the first time I had had a quiet second to take it all in.
I was in New York City. The hub of everything art. Books and theatre and fashion were all right here. This is insane. I walked out of the hotel to get some fresh air. Even in the middle of the night, it was quiet and loud at the same time. A group of girls passed me, laughing as their heels clacked against the concrete. A car honked at another car as it made an unplanned U turn. I started to walk toward the bright lights of the bodega across the street. The radio played on the speakers above as I walked in. The man behind the glass glanced up at me as he flipped the page of his magazine. I wandered the short isles, bopping to that new Clean Bandit song they play every five seconds.
N-n-n-no, no, no place I'd rather be; n-n-n-no, no, no, no place I'd rather be…
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge; I couldn't just walk in and walk out without buying anything. I heard the ding of the bell above the door as someone else walked into the bodega. "Hey Marco, can I get a pack of Newports, pleeease?" a friendly female voice rang out.
She was really pretty; her brown hair was thick and voluminous with red highlights running throughout it. Her legs were miles long; it took a while for my eyes to travel up them before I saw she was clad in a tight blood red body con dress, holding her 6-inch heels in one hand and a clutch in the other. She had a charming smile, but you could tell there was something more there. Her face read like she knew something that you didn't. "You still owe me for last time, Adriana," Marco, the cashier said, shaking his head.
"Come on, you know I'm good for it. I just haven't gotten paid for my last job yet," she answered, leaning on the counter.
"That's what you told me last time," he reminded her. "Where are you coming from anyway?"
"I had a date," she told him, shrugging her delicate shoulders. "He paid. Please, Marco? I'll love you forever."
Marco held his hands up, saying, "Sorry, I don't think I can do that for you this time."
I walked up, pulling a $10 bill out of my back pocket. "Here, I got it," I told them, saddling up next to the girl and placing my water bottle up on the counter. "Just this water and whatever she's smoking."
She smiled at me before pulling a face at the cashier. "Good to know there's still nice people in this city," she said, playfully turning her nose up. Marco rolled his eyes before turning around to grab her cigarettes. "You're saving me from myself right now," she told me as she held out her hand. "I'm Adriana, by the way."
"Leah," I said, smiling back at her.
"I've never seen you around here before. I'd remember a face like yours; you're so pretty," she said.
"I'm just visiting. I have a college interview tomorrow."
"Oh! So cool! Where?"
"Columbia."
"Ooh, she's smart," Adriana commented lightly, taking her cigarettes. We walked out of the bodega. Adriana leaned against the building and lit up. When she offered me one, I politely declined as I felt the cold of the water bottle in my hand. "Thanks for that. Marco's a total twin, a pure Gemini. Sometimes he's really chill about an IOU and sometimes he's completely frigid. Anyway," she took a deep drag and blew it out, "where are you from?"
"Washington State. About an hour outside of Seattle."
"Jesus, what are you doing all the way out here?" she chuckled. "I thought people on the west coast stayed on the west coast."
I shook my head, "I needed a drastic change. It started to get too claustrophobic."
She giggled, "I get that. I grew up in this small town in Pennsylvania, Amish country. I ran like the wind as soon as I could and never looked back. I wasn't interested in the whole 'married by 20, babies by 20 and a half' idea." She looked me up and down. "Most people are either running to something or running from something. What's the story?"
Where to start. "Both, I guess," I shrugged.
"There's a juicy story there, I can tell. Spill it," she smirked, her green eyes glimmering.
"In short? My ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my cousin but I kind of fell for his best friend whose now my boyfriend; he's asleep at the hotel right now. My mom wanted me to be a nurse and get married young and I wanted to go to school for art and live my life. So now I'm just trying to figure it all out."
"Damn," Adriana said, exhaling more smoke. "Well you picked the perfect place to figure things out. 90% of the people here are figuring it out."
"What do you do here?" I asked.
"A little bit of everything," Adriana said, dropping her half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. "I'm in school for fashion though at FIT and I model on the side. I want to be the next American Anna Wintour."
"Whoa, how did you get into modeling?" I asked. "I'm a photographer."
Adriana pushed herself off of the building. "You'll learn that the island is a lot smaller once you're used to it. If you meet the right person, things go well for you here," she winked. "Let me give you my number. What are you doing after your interview?"
"Paul is meeting me in Central Park and we're going to lunch," I told her, handing her my phone.
"Oh my god, perf! I'll be on that side of town all day! Look, if you need someone to show you both around, let me know. I'll be your friendly face in the city," she smiled at me as she punched in her number and handed it back to me.
We made small talk for a while, as if we'd known each other for years. She told me she emancipated from her family and moved to New York City when she was 16; she'd been in the city for about three years. Adriana told me she changed her name, got her GED, and made it here all on her won. I told her about growing up on the reservation and how people don't leave hardly ever. She said that that sounded like where shew as from; she had to find her own family in the city so she could survive. But, as time passed, people started to drift off into different directions, some out of the city, some just got too busy. When she told me that, I thought of Rachel and Rebecca, hoping that wouldn't be the case after this summer. "It's the nature of the beast," she shrugged.
When I was finally heading back into the hotel, it was nearly sunrise. I creeped back into the room to see Paul flat on his stomach, dozing peacefully. After I slipped out of my jeans, I cozied up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting my face on his shoulder blade. He was burning up. Even warmer than he had been a couple of days ago. Furrowing my eyebrows, I reached until the back of my hand to his forehead. He was so hot. Paul sighed as he buried his face into his pillow.
The morning came all too fast. I struggled to wake up as Paul hopped out of the bed, fresh as a daisy. "Wake up, college girl," he said, running his hands through my hair.
"Go away," I grumbled, rolling over. I pulled the pillow over my face, feeling myself drift back asleep.
"Come on, sweetheart, you have to wake up," Paul tried to coax me by speaking in his low, sweet voice and rubbing my back.
"No, I hate you," I pushed his hand away. I couldn't even hold my eyes open, let alone keep my head up.
He chuckled. I felt the bed shift as he stood up. "Don't make me do it, Lee."
"I'll kill you," I told him.
"3…"
"Paul, don't!"
"2…"
"Stoooooop!"
"1." Paul snatched the blanket off of me, the crisp morning air attacking my body. I shrieked as my legs pulled closer to my chest. He leaned over and shook my leg. "Get up, Lee, come on. You don't want to be late for your interview."
He effortlessly lifted me off of the bed and carried me into the bathroom. I groaned as he tried to set me down in front of the sink. My hands restricted around his neck as I shook my head in his chest. He finally sat me on the sink, looking super refreshed from a good night's sleep. I rubbed my eyes as I yawned. When I looked at him, it was like he shot up another couple of inches overnight. My brows furrowed as I analyzed him from head to toe. "What happened?" I asked, squinting.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
My arm shot up, touching the top of his head. "You're getting bigger. How is that possible?" I hopped off the sink and stood next to him. The top of my head barely leveled up with his shoulder.
He shrugged it off as he placed his hands on my hips and made me stand in front of him. "That doesn't even matter," he said, "because guess what I'm looking at."
"What?"
"I'm looking at the future of Columbia University right now," he grinned. I couldn't help but smile at his words. I had told him on the plane that I was most excited about Columbia; I had been daydreaming about going to the Met, visiting galleries, talking to brilliant professors about art, and taking photos all around the city.
We had only been in New York for less than 24 hours and I could already see us having a life here. As I looked at Paul in the mirror, I imagined us getting ready together every morning. Between his bed head and mine and the morning sun shining through the room's windows, I saw us growing together. Cramped in a small apartment, tired from the day, but in love. Would we get a dog? Or a cat? Would we live in Brooklyn or Queens? Would we frequent bars on the weekends or would we be more like homebody types?
I felt as one of his hands glided across my torso; his head dipped down and kissed my neck. I shivered a little as his lips ghosted that area. I leaned into his body, feeling all of his warmth. His hard muscles were inviting somehow, comforting. My eyes fluttered closed as he continued to delicately feel my body. Then he smacked me hard on the ass. "Ow!" I exclaimed loudly.
"Get in the shower. We have a busy day," he said, walking out of the bathroom.
"You really know how to ruin a moment," I said, sarcastically as I rolled my eyes. He didn't respond; he just chuckled and closed the door behind him.
XXXXXXXXX
Mrs. Teller was really intimidating. Well…that's what I thought when I first met her in the lobby of the administration building. Her brown hair was in a tight bun and her glasses perched on her nose like you see in the movies. I couldn't stop fidgeting in my seat; my blouse was uncomfortable. Paul had insisted on going to Columbia with me until it was time for him to leave for his tour of the culinary school. As he sat next to me in the lobby, he kept whispering, "You're going to do great. Just be yourself."
By the time I made it back to Mrs. Teller's office—she told me to call her Connie, but I told her I'd be more comfortable calling her Mrs. Teller—it gave off a completely different vibe than her stiff pencil skirt, wrinkle free white button-down shirt, and black patent leather pumps. Her walls were covered in art. I recognized one Gustav Klimt behind her desk. The rest were Art Deco type pieces. There were so many hanging plants in front of her large windows and gentle music played in the background as she sighed, gracefully settling into her desk chair. I sank into one of the armchairs; it was so soft, I almost felt like I was being swallowed.
She started off with some easy questions. By now, all of my standard interview questions came out naturally. My background, my ambitions, where I come from, my strengths. This time felt different. Every time I answered, Mrs. Teller would take a pause then give me a chipper 'okay!' before she moved onto the next question on her checklist. At one point, I was convinced I blew it. She tapped her pen on her legal pad for a second before setting it down, lacing her fingers on top of her desk, and making direct eye contact with me. "How are you feeling today?" she asked me.
I opened my mouth to answer before closing it again, not entirely sure how to answer. It was a little bit of a catch-22; I could either be honest and tell her that I was nervous about this interview, anxious about the future, and an all-around mess when it came to figuring out this college stuff or I could tell her that I feel great and that I knew, for sure, that I had a handle on my life and my surroundings. I blew out a breath and bit my lip as I contemplated my options. "I'm really nervous," I said, nodding.
She offered me a small smile, "I can tell." She reached down and pulled out a bowl of peppermints from her desk. "Here, have one. It'll calm your nerves."
I hesitated before grabbing one. I played with the plastic for a second before popping the mint in my mouth. The silence was a little comfortable.
"It's perfectly normal to be nervous, Leah," Mrs. Teller told me. "But can I be honest with you?"
I nodded. The soft mint started to dissolve in my mouth.
"You're sounding a little rehearsed. Like you've practiced these answers a million times in your mirror." She shrugged her shoulders, "Not that that's a bad thing. That's very commendable. But I want to know you more. What inspires you? You said you wanted to study art history; tell me why."
My eyes immediately went to the painting above her head. "That's a Gustav Klimt, right?" I asked, willing myself to relax.
Mrs. Teller glanced behind her and then nodded, impressed, "Very good eye," she complimented me.
"Thank you," I beamed. "The first time I saw a Klimt was in a movie. That romantic comedy with Reese Witherspoon and that guy from Star Trek. I had never been that much into paintings, but his art spoke to me. I started to study him for a class. Before then, I was only into photography; I was obsessed with Collier Schorr and Zanele Muholi and so many others. But once I started to learn other mediums, I knew art was the only industry I wanted to be in.
I paused and glanced at the other pieces in her office, "I know that's a Meredith Frampton," I pointed to one painting before pointing to another, "and that's a Winold Reiss. Winold Reiss is one of my favorite artists. All three of them are completely different vibes and styles, technically, but rhythmically, they all work in this space because they make you feel something. They make you think; they make you want to learn more about their motivations and their muses. I want to study art history because I want to learn how to love art more."
Mrs. Teller let out a small hum as she picked up her pencil and nodded to herself. I watched as her hand went to the top of the page and put a star next to my name. Then she looked up at me again, over her glasses. "That was the best answer I've heard all day."
Walking out of that building, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I was on top of the world. All of the brick buildings and white columns were just so empowering for me. So many amazing and intelligent people walked these same stairs, cobblestone walkways, and crosswalks. For the first time, I felt sure about what I wanted. I wanted the rush of the city and to grow here. This was it.
Paul and I met up and explored Central Park before we went to this place called Momofuku. Paul was going on and on about the guy that owns it and wanted to see if it was as good as he thought it would be. He was like a kid in a candy store. After I told him about my interview, he prattled on and on about the culinary institute. His amber eyes sparkled and danced as if he was a kindergartner telling you about their first day of school.
"So…" I started, stirring my noodles with my chopsticks, "do you want to pack up your entire life in La Push and move to New York City with me?"
He didn't even miss a beat. "Absolutely."
I grinned at him as my phone began to vibrate in my purse. Digging it out of the bottom of my purse, I looked at the ID. It was Adriana, the girl from last night. "Hold on," I told Paul as I answered. "Hello?"
"Leah!" Adriana squealed. "Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you answered the phone. I had the most brilliant of brilliant ideas."
"What's up?" I asked, twirled my chopsticks in my hand. Paul looked at me and mouthed 'who is it?' I held up one finger as I listened.
"Ok, so a good friend of mine is hosting a photoshoot at this insane apartment on the Upper West Side. You and your cutie should drop by! And then we can all go out after!" She sounded so excited; how could I say no? "Perfect! I'll text you the address."
XXXXXXXXX
We could hear the music and pure laughter from outside the door. It was that electronic, dance club music you always here in the movies. I had texted Adriana when we pulled up in the cab; she swung the door open, looking happy and a little bit tipsy. "You're here!" she yelled. She grabbed both of our hands and pulled us inside. "You must be Paul. Leah bragged about you last night; you're even cuter than she said."
"Oh…thanks, I guess?" Paul said as she pulled us deeper into the apartment. It was a gorgeous place. There were floor-to-ceiling windows and this insane mural painted on the ceiling. A girl was pulling a sheer curtain in front of her body, only clad in lingerie. There were tons of lights and reflector umbrellas all over the room.
Adriana rambled as we looked around. "…after we talked last night, I was thinking about how serendipitous it was that I would meet a photographer at my favorite bodega. It felt like a sign, you know? Like we're going to be best friends, I just know it," she said, pouring champagne in two glasses. She was also in lingerie, only a little more covered than some of the other models.
"What's the photoshoot for?" I asked.
She lit up, "Julian is putting together a boudoir portfolio for his next gallery exhibit; he's working with this other photographer who's up and coming out of Brooklyn. Julian likes to have his hands in all kinds of projects, so we never really know what he's looking for until we get the call." She downed the rest of her champagne before grabbing my hand. "Come meet him!"
I turned to Paul who nodded at me, encouraging me to go. He leaned against the wall next to the bar cart, shifting a little uncomfortably. I felt guilty dragging him here, but I would have felt even guiltier leaving him at the hotel. Adriana's heels clacked on the hardwood floor as we approached this man who was barely older than us, a firm scowl on his face. His camera sat on a tri pod, next to a laptop with all of the shots he had taken. "Turn a little to the side for me and tilt your head back," he told the model. She shifted just slightly before we heard the shutter of the camera. The shot popped up on the laptop; it was gorgeous. She was shadowed by the windows; her curled hair framed the silhouette of her head and the only thing you could see was the small ruffles of her garter belt.
"Oh wow, that's beautiful," I commented quietly, leaning down to examine it more.
"Julian," Adriana tapped the photographer on his shoulder.
He turned around, his frown deepening. "What's up?" his eyes darted to me. "Who is this?"
"This is Leah Clearwater," Adriana said proudly. "Columbia, Class of 2018."
"Oh!" his eyebrows raised. "Welcome to New York."
"Julian teaches photography at Columbia, actually. I met him when I first moved to the city; he helped me get a few modeling jobs after I got signed." Adriana told me. "Leah wants to be a photographer. She's amazing."
I giggled. "You haven't even seen my work yet."
"I don't have to. It's all in the vibe."
Julian turned away from the camera to face me. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked me up and down, studying me. He looked no older than his late 20's, although I did spot a couple of greys in his hairline. I can't even judge; Rachel found her first grey hair at 17. He was reasonably attractive; stubble beard, big brown eyes, dark hair, olive skin, slight New York accent. "Let me guess…west coast," he said.
I blinked in surprise. "How did you—?"
"What do you think of the shot?" he moved on, tapping some keys on the computer.
"I-I think it's super impressive. Utilizing the windows is always a great idea for boudoir," I said.
"But?" he prompted.
I pursed my lips as I contemplated whether I should speak my mind or not. Artists are temperamental and I didn't want to make an enemy in a place I haven't even moved to yet. My eyes wandered up to the muralled ceiling and blew out a quiet breath, "I personally would use the ceiling more," I said, my voice going up at the end. "It's so eye-catching; you wouldn't want to waste it. But that's just me. I wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes."
Julian glanced up at the ceiling then looked back at me then the ceiling then back at me. He tapped his finger to his lips. "Show me how."
For a second there, it was like I was seeing a glimpse into my future. As I recruited Paul to help me move an incredibly large and heavy mirror that he picked up strangely effortlessly, I could feel my heart beating in excitement. I pulled back all of the curtains to let the natural light flood in more and introduced myself to the rest of the models. Julian's camera was a lot more sophisticated than mine, but it didn't take me long to figure it out. I felt like Julian was watching me more than he was watching the process, but I didn't want to bring attention to that.
Ava, the model from earlier, came over and sat delicately on the mirror. I told her to lean back on her elbows and arch her back as much as she could and let her head drop. From above, I found just the right angle so the camera could capture her, her reflection, and the mural in the mirror. I adjusted the setting so everything except for the mirror and Ava was blurred and took 10 shots.
"Your girlfriend is a genius," I heard Adriana say behind me.
Paul chuckled, "I know."
Time passed so quickly, I didn't even realize I had kind of taken over the shoot. Eventually, we found a natural stopping point and I took a minute to look at the shots I had gotten. Julian hovered over my shoulder and let out a light humming noise. "Very impressive," he complimented me. "You've got a great eye."
"Thank you," I smiled.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"18," I answered, adjusting the brightness on one of the photos of Ava.
"A natural gift then. You haven't had any training?" he asked.
I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Nah, we don't have good art programs where I come from."
"Looks like you came to the right place then," he said, reaching over me to center a picture. Then he reached in his back pocket and handed me a card. "Let me know if you register for one of my classes. I'd love to teach you some tricks."
It would be wrong for me not to point out that his fingers intentionally lingered on the card as I grabbed it. We made eye contact that was just a second longer than I was comfortable with. The entire shoot, he hadn't made a pass at anyone; Julian was composed and professional and just the right amount of playful and easy going. I could tell that Julian Gerard was a serious artist type from the second I met him. But I wasn't interested in the smoldering eyes and intense vibes he was throwing.
Paul and I decided to stay after the shoot was over. Some of the models brought out drinks and turned up the music even louder than before. It felt strange partying without Rachel, Bex, Sam, and Jared. I almost felt like I was in another world. I was used to drinking beer and stolen rum at a bonfire; these girls were popping champagne and drinking martinis.
They weren't like the model types that you would expect though. Ava was studying to be a doctor; she was just like Izzie Stevens from Grey's. Adriana was studying fashion. One of the other girls was studying to be a psychologist. These girls were real girls and that was my favorite part about it.
But still, it was like something straight out of Gossip Girl. Years of daydreaming about being like Blair and Serena in Rachel and Rebecca's living room and here I was experiencing that kind of in real life. I needed a second to take it all in. So while a literal model was trying to flirt with my boyfriend, I was just sitting on the floor, champagne flute in hand, taking it all in.
Man, I wished Rachel and Becca were there with me. That would make this perfect. My first New York photoshoot came out of nowhere and it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. This felt like a sign.
The model placed a flirty hand on Paul's bicep and laughed as he tried to scoot away, casually. I couldn't tell how he felt about this whole ordeal, but I couldn't ignore that he set aside the rest of our afternoon so I could do this. When he had finally had enough, he excused himself and walked over to me, his eyes twinkling as he took me in. I downed the rest of my champagne as he slid down the wall to sit next to me. He hooked his finger under my chin and turned my face toward his and drew me into a deep kiss. I sighed happily against his lips, tasting scotch on him. "Thank you," I said to him, reaching up to play with his hair.
"What are you thanking me for, love?" he asked.
"For coming with me. I know it's not what we had planned for the day."
He moved until our noses were touching, "I'd do anything for you, Lee. This is our new life. I want us to enjoy every second of it."
I didn't know what to say. All I could feel was my heart was bursting with love. The one thing that I was sure of was that Paul would stay by my side forever and I wouldn't have it any other way. His support didn't come with questions or conditions; he listened to me. I didn't want to compare him to Sam; Paul's love was too pure to be compared to anything or anyone. And he knew that I would do anything for him too.
"Hey lovebugs!" Adriana called from across the room. Her smirk was playful as she grabbed a jacket from the clothing rack. "We're headed to a speakeasy. Are you guys coming?"
I glanced at Paul for a second before looking back at Adriana. "I think we're going to call it a night, actually."
This whole night was so much fun, but I was ready to spend some time with my man. So, we said goodbye; I let Adriana know that I'd call her when I got back to the city for school. I didn't even realize how late it was until we stepped outside. It was pitch black and eerily quiet. We still managed to catch a cab to go back to our hotel room. Paul scooted into the car close to me, draping his jean jacket over my goosebump covered legs. The air was blasting in the cab. Paul wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, kissing my temple.
Then he trailed until his lips were to my ear. "Tell me a secret," he whispered. His deep voice rumbled through my body and hit right into my panties. His hot hand was resting on my knee, massaging it gently. I shifted until I was looking into his beautiful eyes. All I could see was pure hunger in them; it sent a rush of arousal to my core.
"You first," I said.
He smirked. "I want you," he said nonchalantly.
I giggled. "You've gotten really bad at this game. That's not a secret."
"Fine," he sighed, "I thought you looked way hotter holding that camera than any of those girls sitting in front of it."
He pulled my legs until they were resting on his. His hand glided up my thigh slowly, intentionally. When he reached the hemline of my skirt, I could feel my heart start to race a little. I bit my lip to hide my excitement before glancing at the unsuspecting cab driver. I felt his fingertips touch the wetness of my panties for just a second. "Did you really think so?" I asked.
"So hot," he said, pecking my lips before repeating, "Tell me a secret."
I was distracted by his fingers now rubbing slow circles on my cloth covered clit. My breath hitched as he pressed a little harder. "Um…" I swallowed. All of the lights from the passing buildings seemed to pull me out of my head. "I don't want to go back," I said honestly.
"To the hotel?" he asked, gently pulling my panties to the side and resuming his circles.
"To La Push," I clarified. It was hard to keep a casual conversation as he continued to play with me. With every second, I was getting wetter and wetter. My head fell forward onto his shoulder as I tried to gain my composure. "This whole trip has been so perfect. I'm not ready to go back to reality."
"That's understandable," he said so casually. He slipped a finger inside of me, gripping my thigh to keep me still. My eyes fluttered closed as I fought a moan. "But think of it this way: we'll only be home for a couple of months, you'll get to say bye to your family and Rachel and Rebecca, and then we'll pack everything up and start fresh."
In that moment, it was total bliss. I didn't want a day to pass without Paul next to me. I wanted to breathe in his sweet scent everyday; I wanted him to make me feel like this everyday. He pushed my boundaries and didn't make it feel scary. He made me feel dangerous and secure all at the same time.
Right there, in the back of my cab, everything he said felt so easy. Our fresh start was right there at our fingertips. Knowing what I know now, everything he said was like famous last words.
XXXXXXXXX
Seth was telling me and Paul all about this Alexis girl while we were in the car on our way back from the airport. I was only gone for three weeks and he somehow gained the confidence to ask a girl to be his girlfriend! I have to admit it was cute to see Seth crushing on someone. Every time he said Alexis' name, his russet skin was tinge red and he would duck his head in embarrassment.
"I'm just glad you get to meet her before you leave, Lee," Seth said, quietly. "Didn't you used to date her sister, Paul?"
Paul chuckled uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head, "Something like that," he mumbled. "Can we turn the air up? It's a little hot."
I saw Dad look in the rear view in concern before he turned up the air conditioning. It felt strange being back; somehow, I was already used to being away from La Push. Just in that short amount of time. Instead of skyscrapers and blinding lights, we were passing endless green trees and mountains.
Mom turned in her seat to face us. "Ok, tell me all about your adventure," she said. She looked excited and a little sad. I could tell that she was grappling with the idea of both Paul and I leaving, but she was trying to be supportive. So, I was doing my best to ease her into it.
We told them all about our trip. Sight-seeing in Boston, beignets in New Orleans, my impromptu photoshoot in New York. Paul told them about visiting the culinary school and getting to talk to professional chefs who run 5-star restaurants in the city. Mom was getting a little misty eyed, I could tell.
The four hours back to the reservation went by a lot quicker than I thought it would. Just how things were moving so quickly in my life, the same thing was happening to my family and friends. Emily and Sam apparently moved into a house together on the rez; people thought—and still think—that she's pregnant. According to Seth, Sam is busy corrupting other people with his weird ass behavior. He says that his friends, Embry and Quil, were starting to follow Sam around like lost puppies. Seth is the sweetest kid on the planet and it hurt to see him hurt. Especially over something like this. He didn't have to say he felt lonely, but I knew he did. He spent all of his time with those kids.
The first thing I did when we got back home was go see the twins. Paul went back to his house to catch a shower and maybe a nap. Rachel answered the door and screamed at the top of her lungs before pulling me into a hug. "Oh my god, I missed you so much!" she said. She turned around and yelled into the house, "Bex, Leah's here!"
I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible before the end of the summer. Bex was about to be on an island hours away and I was moving all the way across the country. Who knows the next time we'll be like this. The three of us sat on the front porch just gossiping the rest of the afternoon away. "Sam's been on a rampage since you guys left," Bex said. "You should see him walking around here like a goddamn cult leader."
"Yeah…" Rachel agreed. "I don't know what it is, but more and more of the guys are following Sam and no one will tell us why."
"Not to mention him asking for Paul every other day," Bex commented.
"More like demanding."
"Paul?" I asked. "What does he want with Paul?"
The twins shrugged. "He showed up to your house the day after you guys left and got so pissed when Seth told him you and Paul were on a plane to Boston," Bex told me.
"I told Jacob to stay away from him. Things are just too weird," Rachel shook her head.
I wondered if that had anything to do with what Jared warned me about. The sooner we could pack up and get out of here, the sooner I could keep Paul away from Sam. It was mind boggling to me that Sam could be angry with me for wanting to move on, but move in with my cousin. How did that make sense?
As if he knew we were talking about him, Sam started to walk in front of us on the main road. Trailing behind him was Jared, Embry Call, Quil Ateara, and little Collin Littlesea. Well…not so little anymore, I guess. All five of them were well over 6'0 and bulked up like they were pumping steroids. Sam glanced over at the Blacks' house and almost instantly locked eyes with me. He switched course and walked up to me and the twins.
My stomach dropped. The vibe of Sam and his…followers was just so ominous; it sent a chill down my spine. "Lee Lee," Sam's deep voice reached me before he did. "You're back."
"Please don't call me that," I cringed.
"I, uh, I missed you," he told me, looking down at his shoes. Did I mention they were all wearing the same jean cut off shorts and no shirts? Why? "Did you get my voicemail?"
"Yes, it's sitting quite nicely in the deleted folder," I rolled my eyes. "What do you need, Sam?"
"Is Paul with you?" he asked. "I need to talk to him."
I shook my head, "Talk to him about what?"
He clenched his jaw, "I can't really say."
"Then I can't really say where Paul is."
Behind him, I could see Embry and Quil look at each other in shock. No matter how buff and scary Sam gets, I will never back down to him. Are you kidding? Just because everyone can see that he's clearly on some weird power trip doesn't mean that I have to cower to his bullshit. Jared was hiding a small smile, ducking his head. "It won't take much to find him. Can you just tell me where he is?" Sam asked again, his face tight.
"Hard pass," I said as I checked my nails. Bex snickered next to me.
Sam stormed off with a growl. I was a little pleased with myself, I can't even lie. I don't know what it was; I was just feeling this confidence that everyone had always told me I had. Somewhere in the midst of the three years I spent with Sam, I was alright with going along with whatever he said. Things are different now. "Whoa there, mama bear," Becca laughed.
"Do you see how weird it is though?" Rachel said, shivering. "They're like a cult or something. It's so scary."
That's when shit hit the fan. Sam and his disciples went straight to the Lahote house and knocked on the door with heavy thuds. The three of us whipped around to see Sam try to see if the front door was unlocked. Paul opened it, only clad in a pair of sweatpants. He ran a hand through his wet hair; he looked so confused. "What do you want?" I watched him say.
Sam took a step forward, gesturing into the house. Paul shook his head. Instead of taking 'no' for an answer, Sam all but forced his way into the house, Jared following closely behind him.
I didn't waste any time; I hopped up and went straight to the house. I jogged until I got to the front porch where Embry and Quil were awkwardly guarding the door. Embry started to shake his head and hold out his hand, "Sorry, Leah, you can't go in there."
"Excuse me?" I said, incredulously.
"We can't let you in the house," Quil doubled down.
I stood there are argued with them for way too long. It wasn't like I could plow through them; they were huge and solid. These kids…they were literally just two scrawny boys a month ago. They liked to watch video games too much and they still thought farts were funny. Who was standing in front of me? These giants looked so hard and unmoved; they both had a weird tattoo on their shoulders and cut off all of their hair.
Inside there was a huge thud and I heard Paul roar in anger, "What the fuck?!"
I managed to slip past Embry and Quil to get inside. Embry had stuck his hand out to grab me, but I moved just past his reach. Inside, I saw Paul on his hands and knees, his head hung in front of him. His whole body seemed to be vibrating. Sam was standing against the wall, pissed off, guarded by Jared.
"Leah, get out of here," Jared said to me.
"What the hell did you do?" I said, running to Paul's side. There was a giant hole in the wall, I'm assuming from the impact of Paul's body. "Paul, sweetie, are you ok? Talk to me."
"Leah, move," Sam commanded. "You shouldn't be here!"
"Don't fucking talk to her like that!" Paul yelled. "Get the fuck out of my house!"
"This needs to happen, Paul," Sam said from across the room.
"Fuck off," Paul snarled. "You don't know shit."
I cautiously reached out to touch Paul, but it was thwarted by this inhuman growl that came from somewhere deep inside him. I gasped and moved away. He looked at me, sweat pouring from his face. He seemed to calm down for a second before Sam snatched me up, holding me by my waist. I thrashed against him with no luck. That seemed to get Paul riled up again. "Get off of me!" I yelled.
"I'm sorry, Lee Lee. You need to get out of here before you get hurt," Sam said, in my ear.
"The only person that's hurting me is you!" I said, trying to get away from Sam's hard body.
Paul's body started to shake even harder than before, watching Sam try to haul me away. "Get the hell away from her!"
As he lunged toward Sam, Jared moved to tackle Paul to the ground. They rolled around a couple of times before Paul roared louder than anything I'd ever heard before.
Everything changed in that second. Less than a second. I continued to flail against Sam's body as, what once was my boyfriend, Paul, turned into a huge, snarling 8-foot wolf. Jared jumped away from the wolf, cursing loudly. He gripped his arm where there was a huge gash; then he looked at me, silently apologizing to me with his guilt-ridden eyes.
The last thing I remember was the loud whining of a panicking wolf before everything went dark.