Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Thirteen - Summer

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Summer

Since meeting Alex, she’s roped me into coming to many of her different yoga classes and today she’s roped me into coming to a pilates class, just like Archer told me she would.

She specializes in yoga therapy, which I have to admit I thought was a load of shit the first time I tried it, but now I make it part of my weekly routine and it really is helpful.

As I walk through the door I’m greeted by Gaia, since I caught her that first day, we’ve become best friends, much to Grayson’s chagrin; he likes to think he’s her favorite but as soon as I enter the room, she’s all over me.

Grayson is sat talking with Alex on the couch in the reception area of the studio, which is really just a desk and some seats stuck in the corner of the building. Alex is leaning against the back of the couch, head being propped up by her arm on the back of the couch, facing him, while Gray’s body is turned facing her.

“Hey girl,” I whisper, a grin forming on my face. Gaia is as much therapy as the yoga is to be honest and is one of the reasons I come here so frequently. I give her neck a few more scratches before making my way to the two sat on the couch.

“Gray, you here for pilates too?” I ask .

Grayson shakes his head but Alex answers for him, “He’s taking Gaia on a walk,” she says and they share a look.

Whatever is happening between those two, I’m all for it. They’re being secretive about it, although any one with eyes can see that there’s something brewing.

Alex grabs Gaia’s leash and Gray gets up to follow her and hearing the clinking of her leash, Gaia runs over from the back of the room, tail wagging excitedly.

Gray hooks her up, leaving with a wave of his hand with a happy Gaia trotting alongside him. Alex looks after them until she can no longer see them and it’s clear how smitten she is with him.

People start to arrive and Alex starts getting everyone gets checked in; once they are, Alex brings everyone over to the empty space in the room, handing out yoga mats to everyone who doesn’t have their own, me included. When Alex first asked me to join one of her classes and I told her I didn’t have my own mat, she damn near kicked me to the curb. She’d said, “How can you be my best friend if you don’t even own a yoga mat. Fake friend.”

She was pissed for all of 10 minutes until Grayson and Brooks arrived and she got distracted by a certain someone and the fact she could smell cigarette smoke on him after apparently they’d had an in-depth talk about how that will not help him get better. I, however, was not pissed because she called me her best friend and I haven’t had anyone call me that in almost 4 years.

I’ve never been to a pilates class before and all I know is that it’s higher impact than the normal yoga I’m used to doing with her. She starts with a warm up, not unlike the ones I’ve done before, but when she starts the main part of the session, I feel like I’m dying. I’m not one to exercise, in fact before moving here I think the last time I did any kind of sport was in high school, hell, I don’t even watch sports, let alone participate.

It is baffling to me how Alex is out there doing these sessions multiple times a day, multiple times a week, when I can barely get through one hour of this torture.

By the end of the class, I’ve well and truly had enough.

“How’s everyone feeling? Everyone feeling good?” Alex asks, her teacher voice on full.

“No,” I grumble, hoping every one else’s affirming yes’s hide my complaining and flop on to my back, breathing hard.

It doesn’t. Alex throws a glare at me and sends people on their way.

I stay laying back on my mat, my abs hurting too much to sit up right now, and Alex comes to join me, leaning back on her elbows, legs extended.

“Didn’t like that, eh?” she asks.

I don’t say anything and just try to muster up enough energy to flip her off.

She laughs, throwing her head back and it brings me joy to hear. She’s got a contagious laugh that seems to make everything better because even though my body is going through it right now, a small smile starts to make an appearance.

“There we go!” she exclaims, looking down at me. “There’s those endorphins!”

“I don’t know how you do that everyday,” I say, bringing myself up onto my elbows and staring down at my legs and lilac painted toe nails — Alex requests for everyone in the studio to have bare feet in sessions, apparently feeling the ground is good for… grounding yourself? I think that’s wh at she said the first — and last — time I asked.

“You get used to it, also working out is therapeutic for me too. I don’t just do this for your sake, you know,” she says, bumping me with her shoulder.

“I know.” We both come to crossed leg positions, sitting at either end of my mat. “So. Tell me what Grayson was really doing here?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” She asks, not giving anything away except for the fact a path of red makes its way across her pale skin, from her cheeks down to her chest.

“There’s no way he was just here to walk the dog,’ I say.

She groans but relents, “Fine!”

I get myself comfy, I’ve not been party to girl talk in a long, long, time and I am so ready for this.

“He came here last night as I was finishing up for the day, he’d just been with Brooks and apparently he said something to Gray that he didn’t like or something. He wasn’t really making much sense,” she shakes her head at the memory, “Anyway, I brought him home with me, we had diner and he… stayed the night…” she trails off, the blush darkening to a deeper red.

I squeal at the revelation, launching myself at Alex, engulfing her in a giant hug.

“Yes, thank you, I know, it’s great news,” she says, almost sarcastically. I pull away, holding her at arms length.

“Why are you saying it like that?” I ask, a frown marring my face.

“Because… he only came over here because Brooks said something and I doubt he would have come over if he hadn’t.”

“And…”

“And what? ”

“He still came over because he wanted to, regardless. It’s Gray, you really think he would do something he didn’t want to do?” I give her a look that says I’m right.

She sighs in defeat.

Alex also has a tendency to over think things, like me, and we’re both very aware of that fact so we make an effort to not let the other get away with it.

She looks behind me out the window of the studio and her eyes light up. I turn and see Grayson and Gaia walking through the little park outside instep with each other and it’s actually one of the sweetest things. Grayson is a large man, tattoos, shaved head, tall, built like a tank with muscles that aren’t just for show, and here he is, smiling down at Gaia with her pink leash in hand.

He’s smitten for sure. With Alex and the dog.

Once Gray got back to the studio, I left them to it and they’ve already started looking like a family, Alex having greeted them both as they got to the door. They have a lot to work through, Alex has mentioned some of Gray’s struggles very vaguely and she’s mentioned her own in great detail and I think together they’ll be able to work through it.

They’ll be great for each other, Alex just needs to stop doubting herself and him.

I head home, stopping at the grocery store on the way.

Ladened with paper bags, I push my way through the front door to the cafe. I miss the grocery bags in England, they came with handles and now I have to cradle my groceries in my arms like a baby if I ever forget my reusable ones.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I stop short. The shelves that Brooks had in his truck that first day are here. Like fully built, in it’s place.

“Brooks?” I call out, trying to maneuverer the bags enough to grab my phone out of my purse.

There’s no answer but I haven’t been gone long and these shelves were not here when I left this morning, he can’t have gone far.

I place the grocery bags down on the counter and fish my phone out of my purse now my hands are free. I bring up Brooks’ number and hit call; the first time I’ve ever done so, and stand in awe at the shelves. It’s a beautiful oak wood, slightly darker than I thought they would be after being shown a picture of them by Fred, but I think the darker wood looks better, it compliments the lighter wood flooring and the other wood accents around the place.

I hear a phone ringing faintly and follow the noise to the cafe’s kitchen. His phone is left on the counter, my number flashing on the screen, not my name. I guess I was the only one to get the others number.

I can see Brooks isn’t in here so I check the parking out front to see if his truck is out there, but I can’t see that piece of shit anywhere.

Assuming he’s going to be back because that boy can’t even go an hour without looking at his messages, I head up to my apartment with the groceries and put them away.

I take a cold shower because it’s still so fucking hot right now and add that to my exercise for the day and lack of A/C, it’s definitely needed.

I decide to spend the rest of the day relaxing, I’ve been doing so much work downstairs that I haven’t had even an afternoon to myself, so I’m dedicating the rest of the day to self care and putting the cafe to the back of my mind.

I wrap myself in my towel and as I step out of the bathroom to head to my bedroom, I hear my apartment door open.

I freeze and look towards the door, hoping like hell it’s Alex.

It’s not.

Brooks is stood there, also frozen in spot, looking me up and down. Its silent for a few seconds and I’m realizing more and more how vulnerable I am right now in my tiny towel that barely covers anything except the really important parts but my body refuses to turn and run to my bedroom and slam the door.

He seems to snap out of it before I do, “Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Brooks closes the door quickly, then must realize he’s still looking because he closes his eyes, slapping a hand over them for good measure. His other hand is still on the door and he turns to lean against it, his head on his forearm, like a child who can’t be trusted not to look in hide-and-seek.

“I promise I can’t see.” His voice is muffled by his arm and it kind of makes me want to laugh.

Instead though, I say, “It’s okay.”

“No, you should— you should really change,” he stutters.

I move, not giving myself time to think, just to act.

The attraction between Brooks and I is undeniable, right? Or am I just seeing things that aren’t there? Either way, I need to see what happens and I hope that I’ve not been reading him wrong this whole time.

Once I’m mere inches away, I stop. I watch his head move and see his eyes are now looking down at my toes.

“I thought you couldn’t see?” I ask, my voice soft, teasing.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes again.

“Summer,” is all he says .

“Yes?” I take a tiny step closer, not quite letting us touch.

He lets out a small, tortured groan, “Princess,” his voice is quiet, pleading, “Please put some clothes on.”

I love it when he calls me Princess, not that I’d ever admit it.

“You can look at me,” I whisper, placing my hand on the top of his arm, softly running along it until I reach his own hand and pulling it away from the door.

His body turns with the movement but his eyes are still closed.

“Brooks…”

“Summer, I can’t… you’re—”

“Yes, you can.” We’re both speaking in whispers, afraid that speaking any louder would disrupt the moment.

He open his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and lets out a breath through his nose, his eyes meeting mine.

“Was that so hard?” A smile plays on my lips.

“Yes,” he chokes out.

I bite my bottom lip, stopping the giggle thats fighting to come out at his reaction and he finally breaks, his eyes catching the movement.

“You need to put clothes on.” He’s serious now, his voice a hair above a whisper, more sure than before, but he’s still glancing between my lips and my eyes.

I take the last step closer, the height difference meaning he’s towering over me.

Brooks raises a hand, leaning it up against the door as he leans further down so our noses are only a breath apart, the other comes up to my face, tracing a finger down my jaw, my neck, hooking on wet hair and gently running it through his fingers.

His gaze follows the movement of his hand, while my eyes follows the movement of mine as I press it against his chest, over his heart and feeling the steady beats, exploring his chest, his shoulders, feeling the dips and curves of his muscles.

“I’m going away for a week.” My gaze snaps to his face, my hand dropping. His brows are furrowed although still entranced by my hair in his hand.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

With the spell broken, I take a step back, regretting my decision to start this in the first place.

His hands drop to his sides and he finally meets me eyes again.

“I have to fly out to Calgary tomorrow for some meetings, they called me yesterday,” he says.

I’m disappointed, despite knowing that him going away was an eventuality; at least it’s only a week. Ignoring whatever happened just now, not having him here as a friend for a week is going to suck.

“That’s why I didn’t—” he clarifies, “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s that I couldn’t do that with you and leave the next day, I’m sorry,” he apologizes and I feel like a complete asshole.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have—” I take a couple steps back, “I’ll change.” What was I even thinking initiating something like that? I can assuredly say, I wasn’t.

I go to turn away but he grasps hold of my one spare hand, bringing me back to him.

He holds my face in both his hands, his eyes, full of sincerity, holding my own, “It’s not your fault… I just don’t think we should start something like that right now… not with…” He trails off and I can only imagine as to what he’s alluding to. My ex? Maybe. I did freak out a little the other day, m aybe he thinks that I’m not ready to for something like that again?

But either way, he’s right and that’s what I was afraid of.

I don’t want my past to effect me and my decisions, let alone a prospective partner’s. And now I’m getting ahead of myself because he’s no prospective partner, he’s a friend that I just threw myself at. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I know, I’m sorry this wasn’t a good idea,” I agree.

Starting something with someone was not on my agenda when I first moved out here, and deciding that I might like Brooks, a guy who doesn’t even live here full time, should never have been part of the plan. He’s not right for me right now.

He gives me a concerned look, “I have to head out, I just thought I’d put those shelves up before I go. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, and thank you, they look great.” I force a smile.

He kisses me on the forehead, lingering a second too long to be just friendly, and pulls away, opening the apartment door.

Before he leaves, he asks, “Are we good?”

“We’re good.” I reply with a burning feeling creeping up my throat.