It's a night that doesn't end until long after the sun comes up.
After being in Phoenix's arms turns into the brush of his lips on my forehead and over each of my closed eyelids, and after that leads to a soft kiss that deepens into more, and after that turns into making out and exploring one another in ways I once thought we never would again, the passion between us combusts. Any hesitation or caution we had last weekend about our temporary geographic distance is abandoned in the moment, no looking back.
There's something about the way our bodies fit together, like two perfectly interlocking puzzle pieces. How the rhythm of us takes over, as if the years between the last time and now evaporate into nothing and linear time becomes a fable. The feeling of falling headfirst into an endless ocean of him and me when I look into his eyes and he gazes into mine, and the pleasure that ripples through me and grows until I'm clutching onto him, fingernails against skin, surrendering to sweet release.
It was always good with us, but somehow never quite as good as it is now in this current incarnation of who and what we are. Primal. Instinctual. Two souls made of stardust finding their way home.
Us.
There may be things we're still uncovering from the time between the relationship we once had and what we have now, but I don't regret our decision to take things to this level already. And hours later, when we lie together in bed, Phoenix holding me, his body curved around mine, I take comfort in the once familiar sound of his deep and even breathing as he falls asleep.
For my part, I'm almost afraid to close my eyes in case I wake up to find myself at home in L.A. and discover that this night and the weeks that led up to it were all just a dream. But eventually my eyes shut on their own, and slumber pulls me into its dreamless depths. When my eyes next open and wakeful reality comes into focus again, Phoenix's arm is still draped across me. He must see or feel me stir, because he holds me closer and buries his face in my hair.
"Good afternoon." His voice is muffled, but I hear the softness in how he speaks. My heart is already dangerously close to bursting right out of my chest. Waking up in Vegas has never been like this.
"It really is."
It's a cheesy answer, and I don't care, because it's the truth. I could stay like this for an eternity, snuggled into him, our legs and arms tangled together, with nothing else we need to do and nowhere we have to be. That's exactly what we do for a few tranquil minutes, neither of us speaking, with only the sound of the fan from the central air and muted daytime noises from outside as a backdrop to the quiet.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"It was noon when I woke up, so later than that."
His lips glide over my ear and then find my neck. I sink even more into the feeling of him and the cocoon of his body against mine, torn between staying positioned as I am and letting him continue, or taking bolder physical action invoked by the fire he's already managed to spark at my core again. We may never leave this bed.
My stomach turns out to be the decisive third party in the situation when it emits a quiet growl. I nearly laugh at how it's this, of all things, breaking into the moment, but I'm also not self-conscious about it. Everything about right now has the comfort of the years we already knew each other this way, and God, it's blissful.
"Should I make us something to eat?" Phoenix's hand drifts down to rest on my stomach.
"Mmmm. Would that mean we have to get up?"
"Just for a while, so we don't get too hungry, or hangry. Then we can do whatever you'd like."
"I never get hangry," I protest.
"There was that one time driving back from San Francisco--"
"Out of bounds, mister. We promised we'd never speak of that drive again." I try to sound stern, but laughter bubbles into my words. "Let's not forget you were also hangry and ready to abandon the car in favor of walking through the ice and snow in the Grapevine until we found a rest stop."
"I will never deny I was hangry. That drive turned out okay in the end, though, or it did after we had food."
A memory springs to mind of the highway patrol eventually detouring vehicles off the interstate as parts of it remained closed due to accidents and dangerous road conditions. Phoenix and I decided to find somewhere to stay the night. The diner we stopped at along the way might as well have been a top-rated gourmet restaurant as far as we were concerned. As grumpy as we were after hours of being stuck in the car, barely moving, the food and being outside of a vehicle made us human again and our moods became lighter. When we found an out-of-the-way mountain inn, and Phoenix went inside to ask about a room, I had no idea he would return with the keys to a suite that included a jacuzzi tub, or that he'd already arranged for room service champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries.
That night was another one that continued past dawn. When we checked out and hit the road after having a late brunch, the fumes of sleep we were both existing on didn't matter. Then, much like now, the entire world was pure afterglow.
"Point taken," I concede. "Food it is."
There's no reason for me to wish we could live on air and simply stay here forever, and so the pang I feel at the thought of disentangling ourselves from one another for an hour or two is silly. The universe brought us together again, and we aren't going anywhere. We have the rest of the weekend together, along with a new future ahead of us.
Phoenix releases me from his arms. My eyes sweep over every visible inch of his body when he gets out of bed, as though I'm memorizing him and everything about the present moment. As he moves through the room, my resistance to greeting the day that awaits us transforms into gratitude for the journey we've been on so far, and for what's still to come. If the last few weeks have proven anything to me, it's that the most magical things in life happen in unexpected ways.
I remain where I am for a few more minutes, listening to water run from the sink faucet in the bathroom while Phoenix brushes his teeth, and then to the sound of his footsteps as he makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. After I summon the willpower to sit up, I take in the halo of daylight trying to peek through the window shades and re-orient myself to the land of the living and the world beyond Phoenix's house.
That's when I remember not saying goodbye to Ava last night. We left the bar without a word to her or anyone else, and now I'm curious if something happened between her and Nash after the show and what led up to the unmistakable flirting I witnessed between the two of them.
I lean over to grab my phone from where I left it charging on one of the bedside tables last night and unlock the screen. There are no new texts from Ava or anyone else, so I type out a message to her.
Sooooo... did you have a good night?
My question isn't specific to her and Nash, but she'll know exactly what it means when she reads it. If all went well, she could be out having lunch or a late brunch with him now. Whatever happened, I'm looking forward to being the one to interrogate her this time. All in fun, of course. My relationship with Phoenix aside, nothing would make me happier than seeing Ava let her guard down and date someone she's clearly compatible with again.
When there's no sign of her typing a reply, I put my phone down and finally climb out of bed. By the time I've put on clothes, splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and returned to the bedroom to check my phone, Ava has answered my text with a long one of her own.
Ugh, no. We all went to Torin's house after the show and I ended up passing out in his guest bedroom. I didn't think I had that much to drink, but the effects were enough for him to think I shouldn't make a decision about leaving with Nash. I doubt I'd remember anything if I had gone home with him, so it's probably for the best. It's still so weird. I usually know how many drinks I can handle.
I send her a quick reply, sympathizing with her night and asking if she has plans to meet up with Nash again while she's here, then set my phone on the table. Phoenix's phone lights up as I do this, and so I see a missed call and voicemail notification, and a text that pops up on the screen. I catch sight of what it says without intending to be nosy.
Listen to your messages and call me when you get this.
Dalton Petaluma is the name above the text. It isn't familiar to me, but I'm guessing it's someone connected to what Phoenix is working on out here, or maybe it's his agent. We haven't talked about his plans for his acting career, or if he has any outside of what he's currently on location for, except for what he mentioned about the script his agent sent him for the adaptation of my book. He'll see Dalton's message when he checks his phone, and maybe he will bring it up then.
I exit the room and head downstairs. The aroma of eggs and bacon cooking greets me before I reach the last step, as does chatter from what sounds like a news program. When I get to the kitchen, I spot a TV mounted on one of the walls. Phoenix is at the stove, but he puts down the spatula he's holding and picks up a mug from the counter when he sees me.
"Coffee?" he asks.
"What's the most enthusiastic way I can say yes to that?"
He chuckles and places a pod in the Keurig that's on the counter, then returns to the stove to check on the bacon and eggs while the coffee brews. I'm about to approach the counter to retrieve the mug when the Keurig finishes, but Phoenix beats me to it with an artful dance that first involves a stop at the fridge for a carton of vanilla creamer. I hang back, watching him stir just the right amount of sweetened liquid into the steaming coffee, then he picks up the mug and brings it to me.
"Find yourself someone who remembers how you take your coffee and delivers it to you," I remark, taking the mug from him.
"Does that mean I passed the afternoon-after test?" The smile he beams at me is enough to light up a small city on its own.
"I'm withholding final judgment until after I taste the food," I tease. "So far, though, things look good for you."
"The food is coming right up."
"Want a hand with anything?"
"Nope." He pecks my cheek, then steps back over to the counter and retrieves plates from a cupboard. I take a seat at the table, observing his chef persona in action while he transfers food from the frying pans onto the plates.
As he does this, a voice on the television announces a breaking news item that the network has learned. The change in tone from lighthearted to serious is swift and so much of a contrast that it commands my attention, even though the TV audio was previously only background noise to me.
"A source with connections to the Orange County Sheriff's Department has revealed there are new developments surrounding the investigation into Elenna Ilke's disappearance from her Aliso Viejo neighborhood several years ago. Authorities are reportedly close to making an announcement about a major break in the case, but our calls to law enforcement officials have yet to be returned. The source also cited the name of someone alleged to be involved in these developments. Since we haven't yet been able to confirm the involvement of this person, and for the safety of everyone involved, we are not disclosing the name we were given at this time."
My gaze shifts from the TV screen to Phoenix.
༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻
So much for the afterglow?😉 And here you may have thought the chapter starting the way it did meant it would all be romantic, intimate fluff. Surprise! The actual mystery part has crept back in. Expect more about that in the chapters still to come.
For those who aren't familiar with California geography, the Grapevine (mentioned in this chapter) is a real place in Southern California along Interstate 5 that often sees snow and sometimes bad driving conditions during winter months. It's probably strange to think of SoCal, snow, and winter driving, but it happens.