Life on Mars

*Jared’s POV*

Neither Eliza nor I brought up the conversation we’d had in her kitchen again. I felt it was best to give her some time to think it over, and not only did I want to avoid pressuring her into saying anything she might regret later, but I wanted to make sure she meant everything she said. At first I wasn’t sure if she was just playing coy, yet after having lunch with Shannon and Presley the next day, and then dinner a few days later, and then a movie at Shannon’s the day after that, I was convinced that she didn’t have it in her to play games. She kept her distance from me, never sitting too close on the couch and never letting her smile linger for too long. She was even careful to make sure she was almost never alone with me, and if she was, she tried to make whatever it was quick so that she could dart out of the room again.

I also never got her number, and she never offered it. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing, that was for sure. I didn’t feel led on for a second.

I knew it was all for a reason and I hoped that eventually she would tell me what that reason was. I had an unusual sort of patience that I didn’t even realize I had in me when I was around her. Maybe it was wishful thinking or maybe I just loved to torture myself. Either way I kept reminding myself that whatever her decision was, I could handle it.

At night I lay in bed and replayed that brief confrontation in her kitchen. I kept thinking about the look on her face, the way her nostrils slightly flared, and the hardening of her steel gray eyes. Her anger was such a turn on. To me, it meant she had passion. It meant she had conviction. I’d known countless temperamental people in my lifetime, but none of them had the eloquence that she did. I thought it was incredible.

Almost a week had gone by, and by that Saturday night the four of us had made plans to go to Les Deux. Shannon and I roped Tomo into meeting us there, and Presley and Eliza convinced Holden to come and bring along his new girlfriend. Shannon and I had yet to meet him, and after watching the way Eliza let him easily embrace her the night he’d stopped by, I wasn’t in any rush to do so. Shannon heard the jealousy in my voice when I mentioned it on Saturday morning, and he tried convincing me that Holden posed no threat by pointing out that he and Eliza had a professional relationship. However, I was quick to remind him that they were also best friends.

What was I to her?

And this was the thought that brought me to Presley’s florist shop. Shannon gave me directions and I drove down there roughly two hours before they closed. Despite Eliza’s silence I felt it was necessary to make myself perfectly clear, and I had a few ideas on how I could do this…

When I pushed open the door to In the Garden at Midnight, I tried to politely ignore the way the young girl behind the counter immediately began gawking at me. I greeted her with a gentle smile and hoped for the best as I approached.

“Hi,” I murmured. “I’m looking for Presley Gillespie.”

The girl stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly snapped out of it. “Right, sorry,” she blushed. “Hang on, I’ll go get her.”

I watched as she disappeared around the corner behind the register, and then heard a brief exchange of words. Then the girl came back and motioned to where she’d just come from.

“She says you can go on ahead back,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” I nodded.

I moved behind the counter and rounded the same corner, surprised when I stepped through the doorway and the room unexpectedly opened up. The walls were lined with alternating metal tables and flower display coolers. Some tables were covered with vases, trimming shears, and ribbons, while others sat crisp and clean. In the center of the room were two tables, packed full of arrangements, with Presley nestled between them.

“Do you like my workshop?” She grinned. “It’s where I spend all of the time that I don’t spend with your charming older brother.”

I laughed loudly as I came to a halt in front of one of the tables. I’d never heard a woman describe Shannon as charming. “That’s not true,” I disagreed. “You’re at Eli’s every day after work doing…whatever the hell it is that you do when you’re there.”

“We drink,” she winked. “It’s how I keep her relaxed. She’s naturally high-strung. You should see her drunk; she’s a riot. Maybe we can get her tanked tonight. I’ll drive.”

I laughed again at her rambling and shook my head. “Somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate us trying to do that.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” she chuckled, pushing aside two full vases so that we could see one another more clearly. “So what brings you here?”

“Well…I have a favor to ask you,” I answered. “Actually…more like three favors.”

“Oh God,” she sighed, fighting back a smile. “This can’t be good. I mean what person says they need three favors?”

“Me,” I smirked, gesturing to myself. “In my defense, they are all very pertinent favors. Separately they’re okay but…I think that together…they really make a point.”

“The point that you’ve been dying to prove to Eli all week?” She questioned rhetorically. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “So first, can you…make that girl out there deliver four dozen roses to Eli’s house?”

Presley’s jaw dropped. “Four dozen? Don’t you think that’s a little overkill?”

“Yes, four dozen, and no, I don’t think it’s overkill,” I returned.

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged. “But yes, I can have her do that. Do you want it done today?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then I guess you’ve got some choices to make as far as what kind,” she noted. “What else?”

“Okay, don’t hate me but…I’d like to pick her up tonight,” I went on. “And not only pick her up, but I’d like you tell me where she keeps her spare key so that she doesn’t realize it’s me. If I knock on that door and she hears my voice or sees it’s me then there’s no way she’s going to let me in.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she laughed skeptically. “Eliza wouldn’t leave you high and dry outside her front door. She’d at least…open it.”

“Yeah but she wouldn’t let me in,” I repeated. “And don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that there’s any reason I need to be inside – but I’m sort of going for shock value here, you know? So I don’t want it to even cross her mind to leave my ass outside. That way she can’t say no and she can’t tell me to wait while she gets the phone so she can call you and scream at you for ten minutes.”

“Sure, but she’ll scream at me for the entire night once you guys show up at Les Deux,” she sighed. “She’ll kill me if I do that, Jared. Do you want to have to explain to your brother that the reason I’m dead is because you’ve fallen for my best friend?”

“Oh come on, she’ll get over it,” I insisted. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Ugh, now you sound like her,” Presley retorted. “You guys must be carved out of the same stone…”

“Yeah try telling her that,” I returned. “So…what do you say?”

She took a deep breath and stared down at the table for a long moment, then lifted her eyes to mine again. “You are gonna get me in so much trouble,” she grumbled. “It’s…stuck in the dirt behind the bright pink rose bush out front. And don’t touch the roses. It’s how you kill them. Plus I planted the damn thing so I’d rather you not ruin it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “And if she gets vicious tonight then you’ve got free reign to tear me a new one, all right?”

“Sure, sure,” she nodded, coming out from behind the table. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me towards the front of the shop. “Here’s what you have to choose from,” she said as we moved. She motioned to a large flower cooler to the right. “These are all the roses I have to choose from at the last minute. We could send her something more extraordinary if you were willing to wait until next week…”

But my eyes were already glued to a few different types. “No, these are perfect,” I breathed. “Hey Pres…what do orange roses mean?”

“Um…passion, excitement and…fervent romance,” she smirked. “I think they’d send a pretty clear message.”

“I agree.” I pointed to the Beautiful Britain roses, the Black Magic roses, and then the Tahitian Tea roses. “All three. Do whatever it takes to make them look as breathtaking as she does. Or…at least as close you can get.”

“I’m sure I can manage something,” she smiled. “You have good taste, you know. I’m not sure if I should be wary of you for that or what…”

I snorted. “Don’t be. I haven’t sent anyone flowers in years. And anyways, you’ve spent enough time with me and my brother to know better than that. You would’ve kept me away from Eli if you really thought I was a threat.”

“This is true,” she laughed. “I’m glad someone is sending her flowers, she deserves it. Normally she only gets them when her publishing company is congratulating her or trying to kiss her ass or something. Oh wait…you’re kissing her ass…” She playfully shoved me.

“Yep, I’m whipped already,” I agreed amusingly. “And she won’t let me anywhere near her…”

“We’re crossing our fingers for you, Jared,” she whispered. “Trust me. And you know what? These roses would look great in her bedroom. Maybe she’ll put them in there and show you when you arrive to sweep her off her feet.”

“I doubt it,” I snickered. “It’s not what I’m after anyway and…going to Les Deux is not sweeping her off her feet.” I took my wallet out of my pocket, pulled out several bills and handed them to Presley. “Here, this should be enough. Thank you, by the way, and…I guess I’ll see you later.” I turned and had already begun to walk towards the door of the shop when Presley shouted after me.

“Jared, this is too much money. It’s not gonna cost this much.”

“It’s never too much money,” I returned as I pushed open the door. I glanced over my shoulder at her and smiled wistfully. “Whatever it takes…whatever it costs…it will never be too much.”

****

It was roughly nine o’clock that evening when I showed up at Eliza’s house. I stood outside for several minutes staring down at the spare key in my right hand, knowing full well that this night could go one of two ways: good or bad. It was very simple.

Presley had called me hours ago to confirm that Eliza had received the roses, and said she would call me again once Eliza called her to comment on me asking Presley to do it in the first place. I never got that second phone call, though, and I was honestly glad I hadn’t. My nerves were shot enough. The last thing I needed to hear was that she’d changed her mind about going out with us and didn’t want to see me all thanks to some flowers. Plus I’d changed my shirt three times already and I’d had about enough of myself. I needed Eliza to distract me.

Finally, I took a deep breath and unlocked the door to step inside. I was able to tell from outside that most of the lights were off inside the house, save the upstairs, but I was surprised to find that it was silent as well. As I pushed the door shut behind me again I could just make out the faint clicking of high heels in the distance, but otherwise nothing.

At first I expected Eliza to shout out something to Presley, obviously assuming she was the one that had arrived, yet she didn’t. Instead I just kept hearing the clicking going back and forth, with brief pauses every so often. I frowned as I climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked through the kitchen, and it was only when I grew nearer that I realized Eliza might very well be pacing.

The thought made my heart tighten. Maybe I was right. Maybe I was going to walk into her room and she was going to be pacing back and forth, ready with a speech about why she wasn’t going out tonight. I didn’t know if she’d do that when she saw that it was me. I’m not sure it would even surprise me if she did. In a way…I’d cornered her, and without meaning to I might have given her even more to think about.

I cringed at the realization. I might have really fucked things up…

I slowly stepped into her bedroom doorway and glanced around the room. A small tabletop lamp next to the bed was on, and light shone into the room from the adjoining master bathroom. Eliza was no where to be found, so I knew that she was in the bathroom. I took advantage of that fact and stepped into the room.

Presley had been right. Eliza had placed all four vases of roses on the wide ledge above the head of her bed, equally spaced apart. With a room decorated completely in cream, it almost seemed as if they had belonged there all along. Perhaps I should start sending her flowers on a regular basis…

Then I heard the heels clicking again, slower this time, and I turned in just enough time to see her emerging from the bathroom. Her eyes were on me as she switched off the light and entered the bedroom. Her expression was indifferent; I couldn’t tell if she was surprised, happy, or even angry to see me. She just stood on the other side of the room, her hands gathered in front of her, watching me intently.

“Thank you,” she suddenly whispered. “They’re lovely.”

As her eyes moved to the flowers my own eyes assessed her attire. As usual, she looked beautiful. She was wearing a royal blue satin strapless dress and silver heels, and her blonde hair was carefully sculpted around her jaw line. I could see the shimmer of her lip gloss and the sparkle of her diamond stud earrings even from across the room, and I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her, even if it was just for a second.

“You’re welcome,” I finally whispered in return. “So…you sounded like you were pacing from downstairs. Is everything okay?”

She smiled gently and turned to me again. “Everything’s okay,” she reassured me. “I was just…trying to think of what to say to you, though, and I was planning on running some things by Presley.” Then she laughed a little. “But since we’re here…I actually have a confession to make.”

“And what would that be?” I questioned.

She laughed again. “That I Googled you, too.”

I smiled sheepishly and looked down at the shag throw carpet beneath her bed, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. “I take it Presley told you about that?”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t tell you what I did for a living last week and…you didn’t seem surprised when Holden showed up that night. I was curious how you knew.”

I nodded in response and took a deep breath as I lifted my gaze to hers once again. “So…what were you looking to find out about me?”

“Nothing, actually,” she shrugged. “I just felt like looking at a picture of you.”

My heart began to pound just a little bit harder at her words. This seemed like the true confession, and it was music to my ears.

“The thing is…” She went on. “Even if I were looking to find out about something about you…there would be no point in looking on the internet. I have the real thing at my disposal if there’s anything I want to know.”

I remained silent. I couldn’t quite say the same thing for myself in regards to her.

“But…you don’t feel that way, do you?” She asked gently. “I mean…there’s probably so much you want to know and…”

“I don’t feel that way, no,” I admitted. “But I also understand that there’s no benefit to either of us if I pressure you to say things that you either don’t want to or aren’t ready to.”

“I appreciate that,” she nodded. She took a deep breath, then patiently exhaled. “Jared...do you feel like you have to hold back when you're around me? Do you feel as if there are things you can't say to me?”

I felt the frown begin to take shape but caught it and stopped it before it became visible. “Sometimes,” I shrugged cautiously. “But it's only because I hesitate to say something that you may not be prepared to hear.”

“I'm sure I'm not,” she confirmed confidently. “But...being prepared to hear something and...still wanting to hear it aren't the same thing and...they don't go hand in hand.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” I asked.

“Meaning...get it off your chest,” she allowed quietly. “Whatever it is, whatever you need to say, whatever you've been thinking about, just say it.”

“And why should I?” I returned. “Less than a week ago you told me you didn't know what you wanted. What would be the purpose in telling you what I want?”

“Because I know that not being able to say it is killing you,” she answered. “I can see it in your eyes. I don't want to be the reason you feel the way that you do and the reason you can't say it, too. It's not fair to you.”

My heart fell and my mouth went dry.

“See?” She whispered, taking an anxious step towards me and uneasily wringing her hands in front of her. “Right there. I can see it. What is it, Jared?”

“My heart dropped,” I whispered in return, surprised at how easily the words tumbled out of my mouth. “For a moment it sounded like...you wanted nothing to do with me.”

She smiled politely, closing the gap between us. She reached out and began toying with a button on my dress shirt. I focused on my breathing as my heart rose back up, bypassing my chest and settling at the base of my throat.

“Quite the opposite, actually, so...I'll start,” she offered, her eyes never meeting mine. “What I've wanted and what I thought I'd always get have been the same thing for as long as I can remember. I'm reluctant and...a little angry. I'm angry that I was naïve enough to think I'd never meet anyone that would make me consider bending my ways. I've always been very careful to avoid people and circumstances that could lead me towards something other than what I always expected. I made sure I didn't date men for too long and that I never committed, because that's how I thought my life was supposed to be. I can't make any promises, but...I'd like to go out on a limb and at least try. I think I'll regret it if I don't. And right now...the only thing I want is to take a chance.”

Her gray eyes were still focused on my chest as she let silence descend in anticipation of my response. She took a half step even closer to me, and I found the gesture both endearing and unusually intimate for her. It was exhilarating to fully comprehend, in that split second, that all this time she had skillfully hidden another side to her.

Until now.

“That sounded so...rehearsed,” I finally whispered.

Her alarmed eyes rose to mine. “It was,” she nodded quickly. “Was it awful?”

I chuckled lightly and shook my head, reaching up with one hand to touch her face. Her skin was unbelievably soft, and she was so adorable that it made my heart ache. “No, it was incredible,” I replied with a small smile. “Eliza...no one can ever make any promises, that's why it's called taking a chance. I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do, and...all I ever wanted was for you to take an honest chance on me, to consider the notion that...life doesn't always end up where you think it will. Don't take this the wrong way but...that's called closed-mindedness and...you're better than that.”

She blinked, recognition flashing through her eyes and a tiny smile spreading out onto her glossy lips. “Interesting. I never thought of it that way...” Then she shrugged. “Well I guess you have your answer then. I can't believe I'm saying it outloud but...persistence is key.”

I gasped playfully, which made us both laugh. “I think hell just froze over,” I murmured with amusement. “Either that or I'm having the most blissful dream...”

“Nope,” she shook her head with another laugh, shooting down my lame attempt at being romantic. “Hell definitely froze over.”

And I laughed again, too, because really, what else could I do?

****

I had to restrain myself from kissing her after that, and a short time later we left for Les Deux. During the drive we had one of the strangest yet most objective conversations I could ever remember having with anyone.

We talked about our parents, their marriages and the complete and utter failure of those unions. We talked about our families in general. We talked about where we grew up and where we went to school, the kind of education we’d received and how we discovered what we wanted to do with our lives. We talked about our friends and a little about past relationships, and also how we’d both come to the conclusion that having children of our own was never an interest to either of us.

Eliza lived in Miami until she was 18, when she relocated to New York City. She went to culinary school for two years, and upon graduation, began working for an upscale restaurant in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She worked at night and went back to school at NYU to study English. Her senior year she began working on a novel, and within a year of graduating at age 24, she had finished that novel. It went on to be published and become the first of many bestsellers. At that point she was able to yield to her greatest desire, which was to quit working at the restaurant and write full-time.

She was an only child, who grew up watching her parents fight every day. Her father was a real estate developer and her mother was a child psychologist, both of whom Eliza was convinced never even wanted children. They divorced when she was nine and she bounced back and forth between living with each of them, overjoyed when she finally turned 18 and was able to leave the state. She didn’t have much of an extended family, save for an aunt and uncle in upstate New York, and the cousin in the city that she moved in with when she left Florida. Her name was Violet and they were roughly the same age. Eliza told me she spoke with Violet more in the course of one month than both of her parents over the course of a year.

She was objective about her childhood experiences, that much was clear. She didn’t feel cheated, she didn’t feel as if she missed out on anything, and she’d never fantasized about being married and having children like most little girls did. She explained that it wasn’t so much that she didn’t want history to repeat itself, as most people in her shoes would feel, it was simply that she’d never felt an affection for taking someone else’s last name or bearing their children. She seemed as if she had it all thought out, and I respected and admired her for it.

I didn’t have an aversion to marriage; I simply didn’t want children. The thought terrified me and nauseated me all at the same time, and I had absolutely no explanation for it at all. I’ve always just chalked it up to not being the kind of person that was meant to procreate.

And Eliza West was the first woman I’d ever met that didn’t try to talk me into feeling otherwise.