Someone to Stay Read online

  On that note, she walked off, leaving Jake alone with his food.

  Lifting his silverware to begin digging in, he felt a dim sense of confusion as to why he even came down here tonight. He would be lying to himself if he said it was only because he was hungry; he could have gotten room service if that were simply the case. But all day, as he labored over his script, a part of him had nagged endlessly about this girl - just to see her again, to talk to her.

  Why? Why torture himself with what can’t be?

  But...her smile was infectious, and her obvious sense of self was so unique that he couldn’t help but be interested in it. He wanted to talk to her, get to know her, but knew that dragging her away from her work wasn’t the right place to do so. Taking a few bites of his rice, and cutting his steak, he thought, or perhaps fantasized even, about asking her to go somewhere with him. To ask her to take him somewhere else, perhaps out in nature, where he could ask her all the questions he wanted.

  Pausing in between bites, he stopped himself from having these thoughts. Hadn’t he officially decided he was not going to do this? Coming down here was all well and good, he supposed. It was excusable. He was a guest. But inviting her out, trying to get close to her...that was not. What sort of relationship could he have with her? A platonic friendship that would only invoke rumors. Or - if she even allowed it - a romantic relationship would do the same. He cringed at the thought of being plastered on the cover of some celebrity tabloid, his mum calling in a frenzy thinking that he’d finally found someone. He’d explained to her time and time again that he wasn’t looking for anyone, that he was focusing on his career, that a girlfriend would only distract him and draw unwanted attention to himself. And since Alexa, he had been quite fastidious in this endeavor; he kept his head down, studied his lines, played the part. He did not date.

  “How is everything over here?”

  Her voice interrupted his chain of thoughts, startling him. He turned to the source of his inner turmoil and smiled, his mask returning, covering everything he had just been thinking about.

  “It’s excellent, thank you.”

  Eying his drink, she asked, “Want another Manhattan?”

  He hadn’t even realized it was nearly empty. Another drink would ease these thoughts, he reasoned, a little bit. He could maybe finish his dinner in peace. But his eyes were drawn magnetically to her face; he knew she was waiting for his response but couldn’t help but stare. Her cheeks were no longer flushed, her lips slightly parted.

  “Ah, um, yes please,” he said, after too long. He turned away from her first, staring down at his half-finished meal, realizing that his mind had reacted to her like some sort of drug. His fingers shook as he held his fork, his knife. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

  What was wrong with him?

  By the time Cassie had returned, drink in hand, Jake had managed to calm his raging thoughts to a slow simmer. She took his empty glass, exchanging it for the fresh one, and asked him if he was done eating.

  Her voice was quiet in his head - perhaps he had drunk his first Manhattan too quickly, or perhaps she was somehow intoxicating him - and he looked at his half-eaten plate. At this point, finishing it seemed out of the question, and so he nodded his head.

  “Yes...I’m finished.”

  She took his plate, and he became aware of her absence again. Taking a generous swig of his drink, he set the glass down, perhaps harder than needed, and stared at his hands.

  Just what do you want? he asked himself, and found that he could not readily answer the question. The smart - and safe - thing to do would be to pay for his meal and take his leave, the dramatic side of him screaming that he should never eat down here again. But after another sip of his Manhattan, the smoky flavor burning in his chest, he began to see less clearly.

  Perhaps...he could allow himself some allowances. Perhaps...he could find a way to befriend a woman, this woman, without worrying about tabloids and rumors and his damned (albeit wonderful) mum. Perhaps...he could simply do as he wished, just this once.

  The alternative, of course, would be another film shoot spent hidden away, and, somehow, the thought seemed unbearable.

  “Are you alright?” he heard, and he turned his head. Again, the source of his thoughts stood at his table, looking a little worried.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” A slight pause - the words were caught in his throat. He wanted to ask her to sit down but realized that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead he said, “We never finished our conversation.”

  There was a definite change in her stance at this, and he swore he could see two small spots of color on her cheeks following his statement.

  “Oh. Yeah,” she said. “Well...I read whatever. Anything. I’m an English major, so...I kind of read whatever I can get my hands on. I guess I favor contemporary, but the classics can keep me up too.”

  She spoke with enthusiasm; Jake found himself smiling despite himself before he asked, “And your sketching?”

  “Uh, my sketching….” There was a definite hesitation with this; he watched her eyes dart to the tray in her hands, bearing his half eaten dinner, and then back up to him. “It’s something I only recently picked up, and it’s not something I really do for fun or anything. It’s just a...a stress reliever.”

  Jake could tell by the closed off tone in her voice that she wasn’t willing to discuss her art much further. He wondered why that was, but wasn’t interested in making her feel uncomfortable, and decided to gloss over that for now.

  “I’m currently attempting to read Crime and Punishment,” he said instead, and her face broke into a grin.

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  They both laughed at this; he could feel the laughter forming a strange bubble of warmth in his chest where the alcohol had been. It was an authentic, genuine moment that struck him more deeply than he cared to admit.

  “Please, Cassie. Can we see each other...outside of this restaurant?”

  His question tumbled out rapidly; he hadn’t even meant to ask this. Not yet, or at least, not like that. And, he noted warily, the laughter died out of her eyes as soon as she processed what he said, her expression taking on a new form that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “What?”

  “I -” he started, quick to explain himself. He stopped himself short, not knowing exactly what he was about to say. “I’m sorry. That was...awfully presumptuous of me. I simply...I feel that we have a - well, a connection.” He swallowed, her expression so closed off that he had no idea what she was thinking or if he was sounding like a madman or if he should stop. He decided to see this through, despite his instincts screaming at him to stop.

  “You’re not saying anything,” he said then, nervously, taking another large sip of his drink.

  “I’m...surprised, that’s all,” she said.

  He could tell that she was nervous, too. It gave him a measure of hope, and he waited for her to agree, or to disagree. He was prepared for both.

  “What would you like to do?” she finally asked. It felt to him like she had already agreed, and his face broke into a sheepish grin. His mind jumped to the obvious thing he’d like to do, eyes flicking to her lips briefly, but he forced his thoughts down cleaner paths.

  “With the country so beautiful here, I was hoping to find a path, or a park, and just walk. Take it in.”

  “With me.” Cassie’s question was really a statement, and Jake nodded.

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I mean...yes. I mean, no.” She laughed then, a nervous giggle, different from her laugh before. He also chuckled, the initial anxiety and rush of asking her on a date, or something like it, over.

  “Is this a yes, Cassie?” Jake asked then, never breaking eye contact, waiting for her to say yes. He could see on her face that she wanted to say yes, but that something was holding her back.

  After a long pause, she said, “Alright. Yes. I’ll take you hiking.”

  He fe
lt a strange lurch of his heart then at her words: it was like she had just offered him the best part, the biggest award. It couldn’t be matched. He had never noticed before now, but the light shined right overhead, causing her hair to take on an ethereal hue. She smiled tenderly at him, her cheeks extremely flushed; she was beautiful.

  “I’ll call you, then,” he said. “We can work a good time out.”

  Cassie nodded, and pulled out her pad and pen, writing her phone number down on it. She handed it to him, but hesitated before he took it.

  “Are you going to call me from a...a foreign number? My phone bill might implode.”

  He laughed again, taking the paper. “Don’t worry. Look for a 949 number...that’ll be me.”

  Humor playing about her lips, she said, “Alright, then. Let me go get your check. Unless you’d like dessert?”

  Jake wanted to say yes - if only to be in her company for a little while longer. But he didn’t want to push his luck, and besides, he felt exhausted from all the traveling and the small amount of sleep he’d gotten since he came here. He shook his head, and watched her bounce away.

  Smiling, he sat back in his seat, taking the last few sips of his drink.

  4.

  The sun was coming up. Cassie could see it, creeping in that crevice between the curtain and the window, light seeping into the room.

  Rolling over, she urged herself to try to get some more sleep - bike riding was in less than two hours, and Sam would be knocking on her door five minutes early as always. But she hadn’t gotten much sleep, despite her fatigue. She’d had another dream - a memory that halfway through found itself twisted, ripping her awake. She could only lay there, staring at the ceiling, falling back asleep an impossibility as her mind began to work.

  What was that strange sense of loss she felt the night before, as Jake took his leave? She remembered that shy grin on his face, the expression causing him to appear much younger. He had waved, and, perhaps irrationally, she’d wanted to touch that hand.

  To feel its warmth would remind her that he was real.

  It was an interesting turn of events. Her heart sped up all over again as she remembered the way his question had made her feel - Please, Cassie. Can we see each other...outside of this restaurant? He had looked so earnest, so...vulnerable. She tried to remember what he had looked like on his Wiki page - that disarmingly handsome smile, those intense eyes that seemed to cut right though the screen, the image confused with the knowledge that in person, he was not that.

  Is he not? she asked herself, chiding herself. You don’t know who he is. You only know what he’s shown you.

  Sitting up in bed, Cassie stretched, forcing that voice out of her mind. She couldn’t spend the morning fighting with herself over what and who Jake was. He may be an actor, but she didn’t feel like he was acting last night. For whatever reason...he was interested in her. She had to take it at face value, or not even bother spending time with him at all.

  And she wanted to spend time with him. She smiled to herself, but then faltered once she realized that she’d have to tell Sam about this. Would she be mad?

  Cassie’s heart began to beat a frantic tattoo in her chest at the notion. She knew she had to be honest with her, but she also knew how much Sam seemed to idolize this guy. What if it ruined their friendship? No guy was worth that. Not even incredibly attractive British ones.

  Checking her phone forced her suddenly irregular breaths back to normal: in and out, in and out, finding a calming rhythm. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine that she was calm; she thought of how her heart should feel, beating at a normal pace.

  This time, it worked. Opening her eyes again, she looked down at her hand, holding her phone. It was barely past six o’clock. Looking at her floor, the edge of a book caught her eye; somehow it had gotten shoved in the crack between her nightstand and the wooden floor.

  Leaning down and pulling it out, she felt a sort of dumb shock at the sheer coincidence at which book it was. Crime and Punishment. Remembering her conversation with Jake, she bit her lip, holding back her smile. She had hated this one; maybe that’s why it was on the floor, forgotten. It was dog-eared and miserable looking, the faded portrait on the front the austere promise of what was to come within its pages. She gently lifted the cover, seeing words written there. Upon recognizing the scrawl inside, she dropped the book as if it were something deadly.

  She’d forgotten that. But as soon as she saw it, she could remember verbatim what it said: Happy birthday, kiddo. Have a great year. Since you need this for school, I figured I’d save you a trip. Love you!

  Unexpected tears brimmed in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, trying to swallow, to manifest this feeling of loss, of grief, into something tangible that she could literally set on fire and burn to ashes. She wished she had never picked that book up - it opened up a wound she had at last come to terms with at this point, but now here it was, seeping fresh, right in front of her.

  The buzzing of her phone startled her, causing her to jump, shaking the bed. Looking down, she saw that she had received a text message from a number she didn’t recognize, but then realized it was a 949 number...Jake.

  With an unsteady hand, she picked up her phone, opening the text message.

  I didn’t want to risk waking you up by calling you, so please call me when you’re awake so we can make plans. I look forward to hearing from you.

  The text message had jarred her out of her reverie, causing her to feel a dull sense of happiness that he had messaged her, but then a little worried that he was up so early in the morning. Was he always up this early? She thought that maybe he was still on England time - it would be the middle of the afternoon for him, if he was.

  Wiping her eyes, and her nose, she got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she nearly shook her head at the sight. She looked like she hadn’t slept last night, despite the few hours of sleep she had managed to get. Smoothing her hair down, she went back to her room, grabbing her phone and making her way down the stairs and out onto the back patio.

  They had a lovely fenced in backyard with plenty of tree branches overhead to shade almost everything. Sitting in one of the patio chairs, she opened her phone, and with shaky hands, dialed the number that Jake had text messaged her from.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Cassie.”

  His voice, this close to her ear, was unexpected but in a good way. She tried to imagine him. Was he sitting down, drinking coffee at the kitchenette? Was he outside on the balcony, the wind sweeping his hair?

  “Jake. Good morning. How are you? How did you sleep?”

  “Ah, I’m well, thank you. I slept alright. And you?”

  “I -” she hesitated and decided to be honest with him. “I didn’t sleep too well. I think I had too much on my mind.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Would...you like to talk about it?”

  It was an obvious question, the polite one. She hesitated again, wondering if she should express her feelings, but couldn’t imagine how she’d do so. She could hardly understand them herself. How was she to explain it to him?

  “I’m fine. I promise. Hey, when can you go hiking?”

  “Shooting starts in two days,” he said. “What are you doing today, or tomorrow?”

  “Well, today I’m bike riding with Sam at nine. I’m working tonight, but tomorrow I’m off.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go tomorrow, then. I trust you have a good place in mind?”

  His voice was teasing, and Cassie smiled.

  “Of course. You best get your hiking boots on.”

  “Perhaps it’s fate, but I actually packed some.”

  She laughed at this. “Do you always pack hiking boots when you travel?”

  “I did look this place up online, you know. I had a vague idea of what I was getting myself into. Plus, I love to hike.”

  Giggling, Cassie looked into the backyard, the sun fully up no
w. She realized that she felt incredibly at ease talking to him - despite his accent, and the fact that he was on the cover of magazines and in movies, he was pretty normal. And incredibly nice.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you found someone to take you.”

  “I’m quite glad of that,” he said, the quality of his voice changing somewhat, taking on a richer, deeper tone. Cassie blushed, wondering what it would feel like if he were next to her, leaning in to say that in her ear. She cleared her throat.

  “I’m glad too.”

  She said it quietly, looking into the trees above, their leaves swaying in the breeze, the blue sky peeking through the spaces they left.

  “Thank you for calling me, Cassie.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised. “Of course. I wanted to talk to you. To - to make plans.” She had wanted to say, To hear your voice. Her face flamed at the thought. “I’m going to get going though. I want to get some breakfast in before Sam beats down my door.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll have to tell me about her tomorrow.”

  At his words, Cassie remembered that she was going to have to tell Sam about this, but she swallowed back the fear that mounted at that thought.

  “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up from the hotel, okay? About ten, or eleven?”

  “Ten sounds good to me.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Cassie hung up. She settled back in her chair, putting off breakfast for a moment. The day was somewhat cooler than yesterday, the air not as sticky and humid.

  After a few moments, she stood up, making her way into the house to make some eggs. She mentally began to prepare herself for the conversation with Sam. She was dreading it but knew it was necessary.

  If there was one thing that Cassie was unfailingly good at, it was honesty.

  Finishing up the final touches of a high ponytail, Cassie heard the quiet knock at the front door. So early in the morning, Sam was, thankfully, usually quiet. Cassie’s mom was still asleep, she hoped. She made her way down the steps, careful to avoid causing them to creak.