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Chapter Seven
“So what brought you to town?” I ask him, shoes in my hand as my feet enjoy the sand beneath them.
“We were left the house,” he explains, looking out to the ocean. “So we decided to come here and check it out, and we liked the place. The beaches are beautiful here, and the views. It’s quiet, which I like, so we thought we’d try spending some time here. How about you?”
“I’ve always lived here,” I admit, hating that fact. It sounds sad, like I tried to get out but never made it. “I did a little travelling, but I always came home. My parents left me their house and the café, and I don’t want to sell either, so I ended up just staying, I guess.”
It might not be spectacular, but it’s home. My friends are here, and I have everything I need. I can’t complain, and I usually don’t.
“Why are you single?” he asks, looking down at his feet as the water covers up to his ankles.
My eyes widen at the question, and my mind races as I think of how to answer it. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t met anyone worthy of my time. How about you?”
He stops and faces me, lifting his hand to push away an errand lock of hair that has escaped my braid. “I’m complicated, I suppose.”
“Complicated or picky?” I ask, glancing up at him, shielding my face from the sun with my hand. “Were you ever going to come back into the café?”
“I don’t know,” he says, dropping his hand. “I wanted to, but I don’t know if I would have.”
“Because of me, or because of the coffee?”
“Both,” he says, lip twitching. His voice is gruff, but his words are only ever eloquent. He hasn’t sworn once yet. My voice, on the other hand, is sweet and soft, but I’ve been known to cuss like a sailor.
“Why wouldn’t you come back if you wanted to?” I ask, taking a step closer to him so our bodies are almost touching. “That doesn’t make any sense, Sylar. All we shared were a few reluctant words. At least, reluctant on your behalf.”
Again, I don’t get an answer, at least not a proper one.
He just says, “Because it would be easier that way,” and takes my hand in his and leads me along the beach.
I like this better.
*****
“What do you think hurts more, a tattoo or anal?” Christina asks, making me choke on my morning coffee.
“What the hell made you ask that? Jesus, Christina. You’re lucky there are no customers in right now.” I groan, shaking my head at her.
“Okay, stop acting like a prude. I’m asking because I’m curious. I’d like to do both in the future, and I’m wondering which one I should tackle first. The one that hurts the least, right?”
“I’ve never done either of them, so why are you asking me?” I ask her, unable to hold in my laughter. “Seriously, the shit you say. We need our own reality TV show.”
She grins and agrees. “We do. Especially now that we have some eye candy.”
She told me all about her time with Spencer, and yes, they did end up sleeping together. Apparently he’s a god in bed—her words not mine—and they are seeing each other again tonight. I told her about my time with Sylar, which was much more innocent. We spent the day talking and getting to know each other. We held hands. We flirted. But that’s it. And that’s okay with me. In fact, it was perfect.
He didn’t ask for my number though, so I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again. I just know that we will.
“I say go for the tattoo first,” I tell her, winking.
“Yeah, okay,” she says, touching her shoulder. “I want a sleeve, so it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
Elijah walks out the front at that moment, smirking at Christina. “How high is your pain tolerance?”
She winces, and I start laughing again. “She started crying the other day because her nail broke.”
“Hey! That hurt really badly, okay? Half of it pretty much ripped off!” she says defensively, looking at her fingernail. “Bree wouldn’t even take me to the emergency room. What kind of friend is she?”
“A normal one,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “Maybe start with a small butterfly or something, instead of going for a sleeve to take your virginity.”
