He led me through the café and towards the large apartment building to the left. I glanced at him, and he smiled, tugging my hand.
"Come on."
I followed as we made our way up a long flight of stairs, through a hidden stairwell, and out onto the rooftop. I gasped.
By God, it was beautiful up there. With the wind in my hair and the city sprawled below, it felt... magical.
I turned to his striking face, smiling, totally for "beaming purposes" and not to hide the blush coloring my cheeks.
"How'd you know about this place, Justin? I've been here forever and I've never seen this building."
"Oh, my dad and I used to come here a lot," he said, nodding and biting his lower lip. He shaded his eyes from the sun, and they looked bluer than ever. "For coffee... and stuff."
"He sounds nice. Is he here on the shoot?"
Justin shook his head, looking away. "He and my mom divorced."
"Oh," I whispered, looking down. Aww. Wait, how does 'aww' fit into this context, Daisy?
Daisy Thompson, you're a horrible, horrible person!
"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to pry..."
"Oh, it's okay," he said, staring off at the blazing sun. "It happened a long time ago. I guess you could say we've moved on."
I stared at him, doubtful. There was something in the way he looked—those soft creases across his cheeks, the way his eyes watered whenever he mentioned his dad.
Yeah. I may not know much about the terribly confusing human species, but I do know one thing.
He's so not over it.
"Tell me one fun thing you did with your dad," I said. He shot me a look, and I grinned, nodding. "Go on."
"Well," he laughed, his eyes shimmering, "we went skinny dipping once in a frozen pool in Nebraska."
I gaped. "What?"
"Yeah," he chuckled.
"And you survived? That's unbelievable!"
"Well, I did." He went quiet, staring at the birds flying close by. The silence felt biting, so I blurted:
"How did that feel? Talking about your dad?"
He closed his eyes, and I imagined running my hands through his beautiful brown curls. "It felt... great." He let out a breath and turned to look at me, those pretty brown eyes glowing. "Relieving. That was amazing, Daisy."
I shrugged. Guess those sessions of sitting through four-hour Dr. Phil classes when Tori went all psych in ninth grade did come in handy after all.
No knowledge is truly wasted.
"I know. My mom died a week after I was born," I said, pausing for effect, staring at the sky. I felt his eyes on me.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. At least I never knew her, so I don't know how to miss her. You knew your dad. That's why you can miss him." I turned to him, amazed at the fact that I hadn't spilled a thousand creepy death facts in every two words. Finally, universe! Something in my life works!
"Every time you think of your dad, just remember the comforting memories you shared," I said. "I find that quite comforting, actually."
"Do you think of your mom too?" he whispered, and I laughed.
"What do I have to remember? Her screaming or me clawing my way out with baby nails?" He laughed along with me, and I paused to listen to the beautiful ring of his voice. He stretched his arms out, and his muscles flexed. I squeezed my palms into fists. By God, I was having crazy thoughts of reaching out and feeling those biceps piece by piece...
Wipe it off, Daisy! Wipe it off!
"I think we should get going. Harry's probably going ballistic over everyone," Justin said.
"Is he always like that?" I asked.
"Oh, most of the time. That's why I carry iPods around."
"iPods," I echoed, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Where would any teenager be without them?"
"In a world where you can't hear and have to write letters to yourself?" he replied, chuckling.
I shivered. "Horror."
"Hey! What are you two doing up there?" someone yelled through the silence. We looked back to see a sturdy, petite man in uniform running towards us, shouting.
Oh crud! Not the guards!
I turned to run, but Justin grabbed my hand, pulling me through the narrow space between the stair railing and the wall. We ran down the steps, laughing, with the wind whipping through our faces.
"You didn't tell me it was off-limits!" I yelled as we ran.
He shot me a look, smiling. "You never asked."
"Stop right there, you two!" the guard shouted, panting as he got closer. I glanced back—he was only two meters away, gaining quickly.
"He's getting closer, Justin!" I gasped.
He looked back, then pulled me into an empty room filled with dusty old boxes. He slammed the door shut and pressed me against the wall, both of us heaving. He stood so close, I could feel his breath on my face. I gasped softly.
I'd never been this close to a boy before. I think I'm sweating buckets right now.
He looked down at me, his green eyes twinkling, and for a moment, we just stood there, staring deep into each other's eyes. Or maybe our souls, if what those Buddhists say is true.
He grinned. "He's gone," he whispered.
Too bad my brain was too foggy from his eyes soaking up every last cell to really hear what he said.
He grabbed my hand, pushed the door open stealthily, and we snuck out. We ran down the street, me trying to keep up with his smooth, fast pace while he jogged like he ran marathons in his sleep.
Is this karma for all those PE classes I missed?
I stopped halfway back to the café, panting and feeling the burn in my chest.
"Hey, are you okay?" Justin jogged back to me. I held up a hand, still trying to catch my breath. "We only ran a few feet, and you're already out of breath?"
"It's... karma for all the PE classes I've missed," I wheezed. "From how tired I am, you can tell I've missed quite a few."
He chuckled. "I see." He squatted, his beautiful face close to mine. "Want me to carry you back instead?"
I shot to my feet, gaping and trying to stop the red from creeping up my cheeks. "Not on your life. Let's go."
We jogged back to the café after a few more stops to catch my breath, with Justin constantly threatening to carry me. When we finally made it, I plopped down on the small carpeted spot I liked to sit on when I walked Mr. Cameron's dog, panting. Justin stood beside me, looking down with amusement.
"You're seriously unfit, Daisy," he said, handing me a glass of water. "Here. Drink, don't gulp."
I made a face, and he laughed. "I'm taking you jogging after this. Believe me."
Holding back the urge to scream SQUEEEE at the top of my lungs, I replied, "Only if you drag me there in chains."
I drank half the cup and held it out to him. He placed it on a small tray on the table behind me and held out his hand. I took it and made to leave, but he held me back, wiping the sweat off my face with a small pink handkerchief. I froze, shocked. Then he gently tucked the two strands of hair obscuring my vision behind my ears, his eyes hard and intense on my face. I got lost in the beauty of his eyes, swirling.
But not for too long.
"Where have you two been?" Harry's sharp voice broke the moment, startling me. I jerked back, and Justin stepped away. We looked down, me squeezing my palms, and Justin brushing his hair back.
"I asked you a question, you twiddlebees!" Harry yelled, and I flinched.
Oh, cookie crumbles! He's mad. Or wait, why am I worried?
He'll fire me, and I'll be freeeeee!
SQUEEEEEEEE!
If there's anyone happy to be fired, it's me!
"We went out for some air," Justin said. "She seemed nervous, and I just wanted to help her relax. Sorry for taking so long."
Harry frowned, staring at me. I jumped at the opportunity.
"And since I'm probably sweating like a pig and definitely smell like one, I guess you could find someone else for the shoot?"
Harry thought for a moment while I crossed my fingers, waiting for the ultimate word of salvation.
"Good thought," he said, nodding. I pumped my fist in the air. "I must say the little workout was a great idea." He pinched my cheeks. "It brought some color to your face." He held out his hand at a smallish forty-something year old woman and she scurried up to him, beaming " Marcela here will take you to the dressing the room. Marcela?"
" Absolutely Harry dear. Come with me please" she said, striding down the hall. I turned to see Justin staring at me with a queer look and my heart stopped.
Did I just say I smelled like a pig? In his face?
Oh cruds!
I hid my face in shame and scurried away.
Somehow everything I do wrong in fashion always turns out right.
I think I'm cursed.