Surviving Broken(8)
She left for Greece on a Tuesday morning, relishing the solitude. Almost a little too much. It felt good to be in her own space, surrounded by her own belongings. To her surprise, Luca knocked on the door Thursday night.
“What are you doing here?” She answered the door with a surprised smile. “I thought you were arriving tomorrow night.”
Darkness shadowed the hollows beneath his eyes. His jaw stretched tight with pent up irritation.
“I missed you. Is it okay if I showed up early?” he said abruptly, brushing past her, nonchalantly inspected the house as if he expected to find her with company.
Her tummy twisted at his unspoken suspicion. “Of course it’s okay. You should’ve called, I would’ve made dinner.”
Negative energy rolled off him like heat waves rising above hot Las Vegas pavement. After he sniffed around for five minutes, JC finally said gruffly, “Do you want to check under the beds? No one else is here. I didn’t come here to meet someone. I had lunch with my friends yesterday. Big deal! If you have something to say, you should just say it.”
Resentment flashed in his dark, riled eyes. He reached for JC, grabbing her by the wrist. “I’ve missed you. Don’t go away again. I don’t like it.”
Luca’s lips crushed down upon hers, overwhelming in its demanding force. JC struggled, twisting away from his punishing kisses. He pushed her back against the wall and pulled at her shirt.
“I’m sorry.” His ragged breath filled with apology. Clasping the sides of her neck, he tilted her gaze upward. “Please forgive me.”
Her heartbeat raced with warning. Cautiously, she probed the blackness tucked behind his thick lashes for remorse.
“I am sorry.” His kisses turned soft and seductive, tasting her slowly. He nibbled and separated, gradually penetrating her mouth with heat filled kisses, soothing her reluctance.
The weekend turned out to be a good time. They shared a booth at the trendy nightclub with the producer who invited her as well as a fresh-faced couple making a splash in Hollywood, and a model from Italy making her own public debut out with her wealthy yachtie-of-the-moment.
JC tentatively introduced Luca as her friend. He graciously corrected her in Italian, stating that he was her boyfriend. There was no mistaking the fact that they were together. Luca hovered over her possessively, holding her hand, kissing her neck and dancing with her all night long. He didn’t make a spectacle of himself, but he let it be known JC Mathews was with him and only him.
In spite of having an enjoyable weekend, the word boyfriend saturated her thoughts. JC left Greece with a box full of her belongings and one question weighing heavily on her mind. Is Luca really my boyfriend? I didn’t get struck by lightning. I don’t feel any different.
JC unpacked a few of her favorite possessions. A bottle of her best perfume, a knit scarf Tracy made for her birthday, a silver chain from her mother, her favorite leather jacket and a few other pieces of jewelry. She’d been staying with Luca for five months and still refused to use the phrase living together. Nevertheless, she decided to claim a bedside table as her own.
Reaching into the box, she retrieved a family photo taken at her mom and Tom’s wedding and placed it on the table. JC pulled out a picture of her daddy. It was her favorite photo taken the winter before he died. They were skiing in Lake Tahoe and John had snapped a picture of them snuggled together on the ski lift. It was freezing cold that day and he had cuddled up to her, wrapping his arm over her shoulder.
JC traced her thumb over the photo.
“What’s with the baseball bat?” Luca asked pulling JC from the memory.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and lifted a wooden bat out of the box. “It was my Dad’s.”
“And?” Luca shrugged with a bent brow. “Why’d you bring it with you?”
JC sniffled, letting her fingers drift slowly over the smooth wooden bat. “It’s the only thing I wanted of his.” She shrugged with a small grin, “I just like having a piece of him with me. I’m a lot like my Daddy. I have his green eyes.”
“You have beautiful green eyes.” Luca took the bat from her hands, leaning it against the wall between the table and the headboard. “I’m glad you brought your things. Maybe you’ll stay a little longer.”
JC began to get restless. She wasn’t sure if it was the casual sophistication of Italian fashion sparking her desire to get back to work or the whole boyfriend issue, but break time was officially over.
Several months prior to Tracy’s wedding, JC declared she was taking a gap-year. A few of her friends took a gap-year before starting college, backpacking through Europe, volunteering for Habitat for Humanity, doing charity work for a cause they supported. JC needed a break from the limelight. A hiatus from Hollywood she called a gap-year.