Behind the Scenes(90)

I nod. “I’ll come with you. He probably shouldn’t be alone for a while.”

Crystal shrugs. “I’m not working for two more days. I was going to be home all weekend anyway.”

Something about her tone of voice is odd. Briefly, her eyes flick to Simon before returning to my face.

“I can come home and help,” I say.

She hesitates and glances at Simon. “You don’t need to. I mean, I’ll be there, so…”

Simon picks up after a short silence. “If you want to go home, Sydney, I can drive you.”

“Or not,” Crystal says. “But either way, I’ll see you soon.”

She waves and jogs off across the parking lot.

Only Simon and I are left. I look down at my feet, the blazing sun striking the concrete sidewalk and reflecting nearly full blast in my face.

Simon clears his throat. “I understand if you want to go home, and, like I said, I’ll take you there. But if you would like to finish our conversation, I really would like to show you something.”

I awkwardly tug at a lock of my hair and look up at him. “Like Crystal said, I don’t need to go straight home.”

His mouth breaks into a smile. “Great.” He cocks his head. “I don’t think she wanted you to go there anyway. She was trying to play matchmaker.”

“Hm,” is all I say.

We’re silent for most of the ride. The exhaustion from earlier is back, filling my bones and weighing me down. I sink into the leather seat, not sure if I’ll be able to find the energy to climb out once the car stops.

The route Simon takes is a familiar one. For a moment, I wonder if he’s gotten confused and means to take me to my house after all. He veers away from the city, though, going up towards the Hollywood Hills area. We’re somewhat close to Griffith Park, and memories of the day we kissed at Bronson Caves come to me. His lips were so sweet and his hands so hot on my back.

Would kissing him every day be like that, even if “every day” meant the next fifty years?

The car continues to climb and we enter what I think is the Cahuenga Pass neighborhood. It’s only about ten or fifteen minutes from my place. A little thrill goes down my arms at the thought of him living so close to me. All this time I’ve been wondering where he is at night, and it turns out he’s barely more than a stone’s throw away.

The driveway he turns into is surrounded by greenery. It shields the house beyond from view and covers the paved drive with thick, low tree branches.

The driveway comes to an end, circling around a little garden with a gazebo in it. The house before us is quaint — at least for this neighborhood. It’s two stories, but more on the cottage end of mansions. There’s a two car garage as well, but Simon opts for parking right in front of the house.

I open the door before he has the chance to get out and do it for me, and take in the tan home in front of us. Ivy climbs over the walls, dangerously close to covering up some of the windows. Simon’s door slams and I feel him walk around to my side before I see him there.

“This feels like we’re in the middle of the country,” I say, nodding at the thick wall of trees next to the garage. From where we stand, you would never guess there’s another house on each side of the property.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s the way my mom wanted it.”

I look at him. “This was your mother’s?”

He slowly licks his lips. “She moved here right after my parents divorced.” There’s a hint of hesitation in his voice, like what he’s saying is more painful than it appears to be.

He goes on. “She lived here for six years and died when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I didn’t know you were so young when that happened.”

He looks at me. “I didn’t tell you,” he says simply. “That was a long time ago… and I don’t tell most people much of anything. Especially not when it comes to that.”

I turn back to the house, feeling that looking at him for so long in his moment of pain might be disrespectful.

“Come on,” he says, stepping forward. “I’ll show you around.”

He unlocks the door and I follow him into a dark, cool hallway. The walls are paneled in wood and close to barren. Near the front door, a staircase leads upstairs, and a few doors go off to both sides.

Simon pushes the doors open as we walk down the hall, showing me the living room, the library, the kitchen, and the dining room.

“All the bedrooms are upstairs.”

“Oh,” I nod, trying to act like I didn’t just get turned on by the mere thought of his bedroom. I still don’t know what he brought me here to see. Is it upstairs? And, if it is, will I manage to escape this house without falling victim to him once again?