Sleep.
Unconsciousness.
Oblivion.
Yes. That was a good idea.
“The door locks from the inside,” Jay said.
I blinked. Looked to the door. There was, in fact, a lock on it. He was pointing this out for the same reason that the water and Advil hadn’t been opened.
It was while I was digesting all of this that Jay decided that it was time for him to leave.
“Wait,” I blurted out when he turned his back.
“Can you stay?” I asked in a small voice.
The thought of being here alone in this light, beautiful room with nothing but my thoughts was unbearable. I needed Jay. Needed the shadows he brought with them. It was inexplicable. I should’ve needed my friends. People I’d known for years. People who knew me. People who loved me, cared, wanted to protect me. But I didn’t know myself right now. Didn’t want to be around people who would show me just how much a stranger’s violent, probing hands could change who I was. I felt dark, sharp, prickly. And instinctively, I knew Jay would accept that darkness. He wouldn’t require anything from me, wouldn’t want to do any talking, any reparation of what had been broken in me tonight. He wanted me broken. I didn’t know how I knew this, but I did.
Instead of answering, Jay walked toward one of the armchairs facing the TV, turned it toward the bed and sat.
I just stood there, staring at him. He sat there like a king. In command of everything and everyone around him.
“Stella. Bed,” he ordered softly.
My feet moved of their own accord, and I slipped under soft sheets that smelled of fresh cotton. Jay still watched me.
There was no way that I was going to sleep after everything that had happened. Especially with Jay watching me.
But within minutes, I slipped away.
I didn’t wake once during the night.
Jay was gone when I woke up.
My eyes followed the movement of the water down below. I’d left the bedroom with the intention of finding Jay and coffee. Figuring out where I went from here. My entire body hurt, like the time I thought joining a CrossFit gym was a good idea. Despite the pain, I’d never had a better night sleep in my life, and I felt oddly calm. That could’ve been because I’d walked out the double doors from the kitchen out onto a deck that overlooked the ocean, the soft crash of the waves the only sound I heard. Normally I woke to sirens, to cars rattling down the street, a drunk person saying good morning to the sun.
But there was no sign of L.A. here. No sign of the life I’d left behind last night.
A dark shadow moved out of the corner of my eye. Jay joined me on the deck, two cups of coffee in his hands. I took the one he offered without speaking. I felt strangely awkward with the man who had cared for me on the worst night of my life, who had watched me sleep for however long.
He didn’t seem like he was expecting anything from me, so I turned my back to him. His good looks were too much to take in first thing in the morning. Jay was too much to take in, period.
“I like the ocean,” I mused, staring out at the early morning sunrise. The colors seemed so beautiful and pure, it gave me hope that this world still provided constant beauty even though it contained so much ugliness and death.
The water moved of its own accord, with a tranquil rhythm. With a peace. Up until twelve hours ago, I was content with my tiny apartment on my trendy street, amongst the hustle, with the neighbors I had. But something inside of me yearned for this. To wake up to something this beautiful, this old and unyielding every morning as a reminder that the world continued no matter what. Something else inside me yearned to wake up with a man who was silent, dangerous, intense.
Jay didn’t say anything as he joined me, didn’t stare at the beauty nature was presenting him with. Instead, he focused on me.
With effort, I turned from the morning view I was unlikely to get again in this lifetime. “You don’t like the ocean?” I questioned, unable to hide my shock.
Jay sipped his own coffee. It was only now that I realized he was fully dressed. Suit—Tom Ford and tailored impeccably—hair, watch—Rolex, vintage, worth more than a middle-class home in Georgia—and shiny leather shoes. I was wearing some sweats that I’d slept in, I was sure my hair resembled a bird’s nest with mascara I wasn’t able to wash off last night ringing my eyes.
“This is the most coveted piece of real estate the city. Beyond that, it provides privacy that’s not available in the Hills,” he explained. “That is why I bought it. The ocean doesn’t interest me.” He nodded to the great expanse of blue, of magnificence as if it were some rundown parking lot.