Status: hopefully posting regularly.
Nothing Like This
One
I stare at her, head cocked to one side curiously. I’ve walked in on plenty of strange sights, but this one is definitely the most interesting. And attractive. I scan her body—heels planted firmly to the ground, hands rested about four feet in front of her feet, and butt straight in the air. Her quads are tightened, and the muscles in her calves define from the pressure. Her back ripples with lean lines of muscle, too. “What on earth…”
Her weight transfers forwards and arms lower her as if she’s doing a pushup. Just before she hits the ground, she guides herself back up, stretching her torso upwards and leaving just the tops of her feet on the ground. She leans backwards, which resets her into the same position she was just in.
She buckles her knees underneath her and comes to a folded kneeling position. “It’s yoga, Nick,” she sighs.
“Yeah…” She peers at me from under her right arm.
“What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” My gaze drops right back onto her…well, let’s just blame her for wearing tight shorts. “Not a single problem in the world.”
“You are interrupting my Vinyasa.”
“Your what?” She pushes herself to seated and turns on the thin, light blue mat underneath her.
“Yoga.”
The late morning sun glistens off of her chest, shoulders and exposed stomach glazed with sweat. She wipes her forehead with her arm, and the three of the Alex & Ani bracelets I’ve gotten her shimmer and jingle with the movement. One of the bracelets is a feather, one with a peace charm hanging off, and the third with an anchor.
“How else do you think I keep off of the front pages? I stay skinny.” My eyes roll at the comment.
“You’ve never been on a front page, Beth. It’s been over five years.”
She scoffs and gets up off of her mat. “Exactly.” She heads towards the balcony and rests her hands on it, leaning over to stare at the busy LA beneath. I walk up and lean next to her. “It’s bizarre that we’re a part of that daily mess.” She leans her right hip against the balcony to face me; I face her, too. “It’s bizarre that that daily mess has not a single clue,” her fingers slide through mine, “what goes on above them.”
The little smile her lips pull into every time we’re about to kiss is just one of the reasons I’m glad no one knows what goes on in the tall apartment buildings above them because I get to keep that part to myself. With years of fighting the rumors, we’d never hear the end of it if they knew they’re coming true.
We’re not even official. I really like her; it’s not a surprise. It just took a little while to figure it out—figure her out. I’ve known the girl most my life, but it took something as simple as a Broadway musical to realize it.
It takes a moment to realize that she hasn’t kissed me yet. She’s just kind of watching me as my mind races. “What are you thinking about?” she wonders. The warm wind blows a small piece of her hair loose and across her face.
I shrug, and her lips pull into a different smile as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “What are you thinking about?” I counter.
She smirks and pushes herself off of the balcony with hopes of heading back inside. I catch her hand before she passes me and pull her back. “Don’t you fret, Monsieur Marius. I don’t feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You’re here; that’s all I need to know.” Her voice is soft, but she still hits every single note perfectly.
I laugh and grip her waist. She touches her lips softly to mine.
“Can we go see Les Mis? I’ve been itching to see it since it came out when we were in Texas.”
“Today?”
She shrugs. “Whenever. I don’t know if you’ve got stuff to do with your brothers, but I really want to see it. Since we’ve both played characters in it, I want to see it with you.”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that we’re dating,” I joke.
She laughs and pulls my hands from her waist to slide her fingers through them. “Nothing at all to do with that. In fact, thanks for informing me that I’m not single. I hadn’t a clue.” She winks and walks inside.
“Hey!” I call after her. She stops in the doorway. “Don’t make plans tonight. I’m taking you out.” The corners of her mouth turn up.
“Beth, let’s go,” I groan. “We’re going to be late.”
“Don’t rush me!” she shouts back. I roll my eyes as I hear a third clatter in the bathroom, followed by a hushed profanity. After another fifteen minutes, she finally joins me in the kitchen. “I’m ready.”
“Finally,” I joke. She scoffs and continues past me towards the door. I grab her around the waist and pull her back to me. “You look amazing.” I kiss her cheek.
“Thank you.” She pulls open the door, and I pick up my keys. I close and lock the door behind us.
“Alright, what time are you betting?” She pulls my wrist towards her and looks at my watch.
“They’ll be on us by 7:30.”
I glance at my watch, too, and it’s only 4:15. “I say they’re waiting outside of the theatre when the movie gets out.”
It’s just a typical thing we’ve started to do—place bets on how soon the paparazzi see us together, snap pictures, and a few days later they’ll show up in an issue of some pop culture magazine.
I’ve lost interest in the content of them a few years ago when I dated Delta, but Beth looks through them religiously. I mean, someone has to keep us up to date on what the press is saying about us. We should probably pay her for it.
We get to the theatre, and I buy our tickets for Les Miserables. “I’m literally so excited to see this,” Beth gushes, latching onto my arm after the usher takes our tickets. We pick up a medium popcorn and two drinks—water for her and a Diet Coke for me. She picks a spot for us in the theatre right in the middle of the front row of the second half of chairs (because she likes to put her feet on the guard rails).
Soon enough, the movie starts, and Beth is leaning her head on my shoulder, her fingers laced through mine. Just after the scene where Fantine sings I Dreamed a Dream, I hear Beth sniffle; I take that as my cue to let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tearing up a little. Anne Hathaway’s performance is flawless.
Beth hums along with Master of the House and Red and Black, but as soon as Eponine sings On My Own, she’s crying again, and it brings me right back to her rehearsing with my mom.
-- -- -- -- --
“Beth, your voice is beautiful, but it’s lacking emotion. Eponine is heartbroken. She’s watching the love of her life love someone else.” From the top of the stairs, I listened in on my mother’s critique, raising my eyebrows in disagreement. I was pretty impressed with her performance. “I’m going to call you out on something right now, Beth, and you might hate me for saying this. I know how you feel about Nick, and I know you’re pissed that he doesn’t see it. All those pictures of him and Demi…doesn’t that kill you?”
“Yeah,” she confessed softly. “It does.”
“So sing like you’re screaming out to him. This is your only chance to tell him how you feel, and you’re going to act like you don’t even care?” I heard the piano intro start again a few moments later, and I tiptoed down the steps.
“On my own pretending he’s beside me. All alone, I’d walk with him ‘till morning.” Her back was to me, but Mom could see me. It was unintentional for me to hear the song before it was perfected. Beth made that clear; I just couldn’t help myself.
Even so, Mom knew it’d get her going, and I bet she hoped it’d get my attention like it did. That sixth sense mothers have that tell them their kid is nearby didn’t fail her today. I stood on the stairs watching the emotion pour out of her as she sang. “I love him, but every day I’m learning. All my life, I’ve only been pretending.”
She ran her hand through her long hair and took in a shaky-sounding breath.
“With out me, his world will go on turning—a world that’s full of happiness that I have never known.” The piano stopped briefly. “I love him…but only on my,” her voice broke, and her hand fell from her hair, “my own.” Mom lifted her fingers off of the piano and stared at Beth. “I’m so sorry.” Beth wipes her cheeks.
“Why are you apologizing? Because your voice broke? That’s emotion, sweetie.” She rubbed her arms in comfort. “Pretty good, huh, Nick?”
Beth’s entire body stiffened. She cautiously turned around, her eyes landing on where I stood on the stairs. “I’ll say.”
-- -- -- -- --
The whole movie is filled with Beth’s sniffling, shared popcorn, and a few jokes at the amount she’s crying. But the end of the movie has her absolutely sobbing, and we end up having to stay in our seats until she stops laughing at herself for crying so hard. “You actually amazed me with your crying,” I tease, helping her wipe some running mascara off of her cheek.
“Let’s hope you’re right about when the paparazzi start picking on us. Otherwise, you’ll be right back on top as America’s Heartthrob.”
“Or heartbreak.”
She lets out a laugh and pushes herself up. “Alright. I think I’m good.” I stand up after her and follow her out of the theatre. Beth reaches back for my hand and slides hers into mine.
Naturally, they’re outside of the theatre waiting for us. “Perfect. You win,” I hear Beth mutter as she lets go of my hand and falls behind me, leaving me to push our way through the paparazzi.
“Nick! Is it true you’re cheating on Demi?”
“Are you still just friends with Beth?”
“Beth, how does this effect your relationship with Demi?”
“Can we just get inside somewhere?” Beth begs, her hands grasping the back of my shirt tightly. “I don’t care where.”
Upon her request, I duck into the Barnes and Noble next to the theatre.
“Thank God.”
Her weight transfers forwards and arms lower her as if she’s doing a pushup. Just before she hits the ground, she guides herself back up, stretching her torso upwards and leaving just the tops of her feet on the ground. She leans backwards, which resets her into the same position she was just in.
She buckles her knees underneath her and comes to a folded kneeling position. “It’s yoga, Nick,” she sighs.
“Yeah…” She peers at me from under her right arm.
“What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” My gaze drops right back onto her…well, let’s just blame her for wearing tight shorts. “Not a single problem in the world.”
“You are interrupting my Vinyasa.”
“Your what?” She pushes herself to seated and turns on the thin, light blue mat underneath her.
“Yoga.”
The late morning sun glistens off of her chest, shoulders and exposed stomach glazed with sweat. She wipes her forehead with her arm, and the three of the Alex & Ani bracelets I’ve gotten her shimmer and jingle with the movement. One of the bracelets is a feather, one with a peace charm hanging off, and the third with an anchor.
“How else do you think I keep off of the front pages? I stay skinny.” My eyes roll at the comment.
“You’ve never been on a front page, Beth. It’s been over five years.”
She scoffs and gets up off of her mat. “Exactly.” She heads towards the balcony and rests her hands on it, leaning over to stare at the busy LA beneath. I walk up and lean next to her. “It’s bizarre that we’re a part of that daily mess.” She leans her right hip against the balcony to face me; I face her, too. “It’s bizarre that that daily mess has not a single clue,” her fingers slide through mine, “what goes on above them.”
The little smile her lips pull into every time we’re about to kiss is just one of the reasons I’m glad no one knows what goes on in the tall apartment buildings above them because I get to keep that part to myself. With years of fighting the rumors, we’d never hear the end of it if they knew they’re coming true.
We’re not even official. I really like her; it’s not a surprise. It just took a little while to figure it out—figure her out. I’ve known the girl most my life, but it took something as simple as a Broadway musical to realize it.
It takes a moment to realize that she hasn’t kissed me yet. She’s just kind of watching me as my mind races. “What are you thinking about?” she wonders. The warm wind blows a small piece of her hair loose and across her face.
I shrug, and her lips pull into a different smile as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “What are you thinking about?” I counter.
She smirks and pushes herself off of the balcony with hopes of heading back inside. I catch her hand before she passes me and pull her back. “Don’t you fret, Monsieur Marius. I don’t feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You’re here; that’s all I need to know.” Her voice is soft, but she still hits every single note perfectly.
I laugh and grip her waist. She touches her lips softly to mine.
“Can we go see Les Mis? I’ve been itching to see it since it came out when we were in Texas.”
“Today?”
She shrugs. “Whenever. I don’t know if you’ve got stuff to do with your brothers, but I really want to see it. Since we’ve both played characters in it, I want to see it with you.”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that we’re dating,” I joke.
She laughs and pulls my hands from her waist to slide her fingers through them. “Nothing at all to do with that. In fact, thanks for informing me that I’m not single. I hadn’t a clue.” She winks and walks inside.
“Hey!” I call after her. She stops in the doorway. “Don’t make plans tonight. I’m taking you out.” The corners of her mouth turn up.
“Beth, let’s go,” I groan. “We’re going to be late.”
“Don’t rush me!” she shouts back. I roll my eyes as I hear a third clatter in the bathroom, followed by a hushed profanity. After another fifteen minutes, she finally joins me in the kitchen. “I’m ready.”
“Finally,” I joke. She scoffs and continues past me towards the door. I grab her around the waist and pull her back to me. “You look amazing.” I kiss her cheek.
“Thank you.” She pulls open the door, and I pick up my keys. I close and lock the door behind us.
“Alright, what time are you betting?” She pulls my wrist towards her and looks at my watch.
“They’ll be on us by 7:30.”
I glance at my watch, too, and it’s only 4:15. “I say they’re waiting outside of the theatre when the movie gets out.”
It’s just a typical thing we’ve started to do—place bets on how soon the paparazzi see us together, snap pictures, and a few days later they’ll show up in an issue of some pop culture magazine.
I’ve lost interest in the content of them a few years ago when I dated Delta, but Beth looks through them religiously. I mean, someone has to keep us up to date on what the press is saying about us. We should probably pay her for it.
We get to the theatre, and I buy our tickets for Les Miserables. “I’m literally so excited to see this,” Beth gushes, latching onto my arm after the usher takes our tickets. We pick up a medium popcorn and two drinks—water for her and a Diet Coke for me. She picks a spot for us in the theatre right in the middle of the front row of the second half of chairs (because she likes to put her feet on the guard rails).
Soon enough, the movie starts, and Beth is leaning her head on my shoulder, her fingers laced through mine. Just after the scene where Fantine sings I Dreamed a Dream, I hear Beth sniffle; I take that as my cue to let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tearing up a little. Anne Hathaway’s performance is flawless.
Beth hums along with Master of the House and Red and Black, but as soon as Eponine sings On My Own, she’s crying again, and it brings me right back to her rehearsing with my mom.
-- -- -- -- --
“Beth, your voice is beautiful, but it’s lacking emotion. Eponine is heartbroken. She’s watching the love of her life love someone else.” From the top of the stairs, I listened in on my mother’s critique, raising my eyebrows in disagreement. I was pretty impressed with her performance. “I’m going to call you out on something right now, Beth, and you might hate me for saying this. I know how you feel about Nick, and I know you’re pissed that he doesn’t see it. All those pictures of him and Demi…doesn’t that kill you?”
“Yeah,” she confessed softly. “It does.”
“So sing like you’re screaming out to him. This is your only chance to tell him how you feel, and you’re going to act like you don’t even care?” I heard the piano intro start again a few moments later, and I tiptoed down the steps.
“On my own pretending he’s beside me. All alone, I’d walk with him ‘till morning.” Her back was to me, but Mom could see me. It was unintentional for me to hear the song before it was perfected. Beth made that clear; I just couldn’t help myself.
Even so, Mom knew it’d get her going, and I bet she hoped it’d get my attention like it did. That sixth sense mothers have that tell them their kid is nearby didn’t fail her today. I stood on the stairs watching the emotion pour out of her as she sang. “I love him, but every day I’m learning. All my life, I’ve only been pretending.”
She ran her hand through her long hair and took in a shaky-sounding breath.
“With out me, his world will go on turning—a world that’s full of happiness that I have never known.” The piano stopped briefly. “I love him…but only on my,” her voice broke, and her hand fell from her hair, “my own.” Mom lifted her fingers off of the piano and stared at Beth. “I’m so sorry.” Beth wipes her cheeks.
“Why are you apologizing? Because your voice broke? That’s emotion, sweetie.” She rubbed her arms in comfort. “Pretty good, huh, Nick?”
Beth’s entire body stiffened. She cautiously turned around, her eyes landing on where I stood on the stairs. “I’ll say.”
-- -- -- -- --
The whole movie is filled with Beth’s sniffling, shared popcorn, and a few jokes at the amount she’s crying. But the end of the movie has her absolutely sobbing, and we end up having to stay in our seats until she stops laughing at herself for crying so hard. “You actually amazed me with your crying,” I tease, helping her wipe some running mascara off of her cheek.
“Let’s hope you’re right about when the paparazzi start picking on us. Otherwise, you’ll be right back on top as America’s Heartthrob.”
“Or heartbreak.”
She lets out a laugh and pushes herself up. “Alright. I think I’m good.” I stand up after her and follow her out of the theatre. Beth reaches back for my hand and slides hers into mine.
Naturally, they’re outside of the theatre waiting for us. “Perfect. You win,” I hear Beth mutter as she lets go of my hand and falls behind me, leaving me to push our way through the paparazzi.
“Nick! Is it true you’re cheating on Demi?”
“Are you still just friends with Beth?”
“Beth, how does this effect your relationship with Demi?”
“Can we just get inside somewhere?” Beth begs, her hands grasping the back of my shirt tightly. “I don’t care where.”
Upon her request, I duck into the Barnes and Noble next to the theatre.
“Thank God.”
♠ ♠ ♠
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