Beautiful Beast

  “Looks like we’re going to be roommates for a while, and classmates. So let me start by apologizing.”

  Alex looked at her, startled. “Apologize?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you probably get horrible looks from people all the time. I’m sorry for being one of them.”

  Alex shook his head. She didn’t sound like she was the type to bribe his dad. But maybe this was all part of the game.

  “It’s okay. I’d probably do the same.” He glanced at her. “Heck, I do it every time I see my reflection.”

  She just stared at him, as if trying to figure his comment out. Then she grinned, a light laugh coming from her. Alex was knocked back by her gorgeousness. Her smile was beyond anything he’d ever seen. He smiled back, unable to stop the reaction.

  “So . . .” She drew the word out into a long word. “How come you didn’t eat dinner with us?”

  He leaned down, picking up a petal that had fallen to the ground. He began shredding it into tiny pieces. “I rarely eat dinner with my father.”

  “How come?” She bumped his shoulder lightly with hers. “Is it the whole calling you Alexander thing?”

  He smiled, but shook his head. “No, it’s . . . other things.”

  “Secrets, huh?” She stood and walked over to one of the rose bushes, leaning down to take a deep breath of the scent. Alex studied her. He wasn’t completely unaware of the outside world. He knew by looking at her jeans that they weren’t expensive. They weren’t jeans she’d paid extra to buy pre-shredded. “Will you ever eat with us, do you think?” She turned to face him again. “Or am I going to be subjected to the joy of eating alone with him every day?”

  He shrugged, but before he could answer, she continued.

  “And what’s with all the food? Seriously, there was enough food to feed half the town. How come you both don’t weigh like eight-hundred pounds? Dessert, too?”

  Alex grimaced. “We don’t always eat that much. Only when we have guests.”

  “Well, then plan on gaining a lot in the next six months.” She came and sat next to him on the bench again.

  “You passed on dessert?”

  “If I ate another bite, I would’ve . . . well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have stayed in my stomach.”

  “You have no idea what you’re missing. Almost everything Javier makes is amazing, but his desserts are divine.”

  Calli looked at him. Her eyes moved to the right side of his face, traveling across the scars. He forced himself to stay in position and let her. Her gaze seemed to have the weight of fingers. He waited for the revulsion to come into her expression. Her eyes came back to his.

  “You have a really nice laugh, you know?” she said.

  “I don’t have reason to laugh often,” he said. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Why did he say that?

  “Well, that’s the pits,” she said.

  * * * * *

  Calli was up well before the sun. She hadn’t slept much. If there was one thing Calli needed, it was her sleep. Therefore, she was in a bear of a mood.

  Between trying to figure out if she was afraid of Alex or just sorry for him, her mind had been whirling. That would have been bad enough. But then the bed was covered with silk sheets. When she’d first slid in, the cool material was like heaven. She hadn’t ever lain on anything so luxurious. But when she rolled to her side, the upper sheet and comforter slid right onto the floor.

  She moved to the edge of the bed to retrieve them—and promptly slid off herself, landing painfully on her hip and elbow. The entire night was spent wrestling with the bedding, trying to keep it in place. She couldn’t get too close to the edge or she’d also end up on the floor.

  Sometime in the night, she’d given up and moved to the floor, taking the comforter and pillow with her. As nice and cushiony as the floor was, she still had a hard time keeping the blanket wrapped around her and keeping her head on the pillow.

  To top it all off, she couldn’t figure out how to turn the shower on. So she was forced to bathe. Afraid of running out of hot water in the giant tub, she’d only filled it partway, then tried to wash her hair in the shallow water, covered with goose bumps from the chilly air.

  Meredith’s sunny disposition did nothing to improve her mood. She hated morning people.

  “How did you sleep, sweetie?” were the first cheerful words out of the woman’s mouth. Calli though she showed great restraint by not hitting something.

  “Those are the worst sheets ever,” she grumbled through clenched jaw.

  “But they’re the finest silk,” Meredith said, surprise coloring her voice.

  “Yeah, well, the finest silk sucks. I can’t keep the blankets on the bed. I’m begging you for some cotton sheets.”

  “Cotton?” Meredith sounded scandalized.

  They neared the dining room, and Calli swung back toward Meredith, irritation making her words harsher than intended.

  “Please, just get me some better sheets, alright?”

  Meredith’s cheeks colored, but she nodded. “Fine.” She turned and strode away, and Calli immediately regretted her words. She lifted a hand to stop Meredith and apologize, but the woman was gone. With a sigh, she pushed into the dining room.

  * * * * *

  Alex lifted his head at the sound of Calli’s angry voice, demanding better sheets. His eyes dropped. After last night, he’d thought she might be different. But now, when no one watched, her true colors came out.

  He never dined in the dining room, was there just to dine with her as he knew his father was always gone long before breakfast. He slipped out the side door.

  * * * * *

  Calli entered the same room she’d met Alex in the night before, where they would get their lessons. Mr. Stratford informed her they’d get a computer for her in this room later today.

  She looked at Alex, hunched over in the same position she’d first seen him. It struck her again how normal he looked from this side. A quiver of dread shot up her spine at spending the day with him, but she ignored it.

  “Hey,” she said. He didn’t answer. “Hellooo . . . earth to Alex.”

  The door opened and a man came in. He stopped short when he saw Calli.

  “Uh, well, you must . . . you must be Callidora, then.”

  He was kind of a goofy little man, short and scrawny with black hair combed in thin strands across the top of his head, a matching black mustache that obliterated his upper lip, and round spectacles. He wore plaid pants and a red sweater vest over a yellow, short sleeved button up. One arm encircled several books and papers that looked to spill to the floor at any moment. He stuck his free hand toward her.

  “I’m Mr. Palmer. I’ll be your tutor while you’re here.”

  Calli put her hand in his, and he gave it a firm shake. “I go by Calli.”

  “Calli it is.”

  He walked over to the table and dropped his load. He waved her over, and she went, glancing at Alex who still hadn’t said anything or even looked her way.

  “I’ve gotten your records from the school, Calli. I have a few quick tests I’d like you to take so I can see exactly where you’re at.”

  “Well, Mr. Palmer, I come from the fine learning institute of the local high school. I’m sure I’ll test off your scale.”

  He looked at her, his brows pulled together as he tried to find a polite response to her clearly untrue words.

  “Kidding!” she said, laughing. “I’m more aware than you of the quality of education I’ve been subjected to.”

  “Uh . . . oh, well, okay.” Calli laughed again at his response. “Care to join us, Mr. Stratford?” he said to Alex. Weird, hearing Alex called by the name she thought of as his father’s.

  Alex grunted, then finally stood and moved to join them. He sat across from her and didn’t so much as glance her way.

  “Hi, Alex,” she said loudly. His eyes shot to hers for one quick second before turning away. Huh, she thought. Guess I’m not the only one who
’s not a morning person.

  Mr. Palmer refrained from commenting on their exchange—or rather, non-exchange. He rifled through his folder and pulled out three papers which he placed in front of Calli. He handed her a pencil.

  “You can work on those, Calli, while Alex and I work on his assignments.”

  Calli pulled the papers toward her. She wrote her name on the top then, realizing the stupidity of that, erased it. She glanced toward Alex and saw the math book sitting in front of him to be college level. Figured.

  At noon, Javier came down with sandwiches, potato salad, and drinks. Alex still had not said a word to her. She was beginning to become very annoyed with him. After lunch, Mr. Palmer informed her she’d tested higher than her current class placement, so he planned to start her at the level she tested.

  “Okay, but what happens when I go back to my school? I’ll be in different classes?” Alex’s eyes lifted to hers at that, but only for one unreadable look.

  “Oh, well, my. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we?”

  She shrugged, supposing by the time she returned to her school it would be close enough to the end of the school year it probably wouldn’t matter.

  After lunch they worked together on history and discussing literature of the twentieth century. Calli had read some of the books, but not all. Alex seemed to know them inside out. He had plenty of comments when asked questions, but his answers were all directed to their tutor. As soon as their tutoring was finished, Alex quickly left, even before Mr. Palmer.

  Dinner was another lonely, uncomfortable affair with Mr. Stratford, who asked if she felt her accommodations and tutoring were satisfactory. Alex did not join them. After they finished, she decided to go find Alex and ask him what his problem was. Her stomach clenched at the thought of confronting him, but she decided she couldn’t live in fear of him for the next six months—even if she had to bluff her way through her bravado.

  She went down the stairs, not sure exactly where to look. She walked back toward the gym. He wasn’t in there, but the overpowering smell of sweat and testosterone indicated he recently was. She walked to the tutoring room. Empty. She knew his private room sat further down the long hallway, but she didn’t want to go there. She felt it too much of an intrusion. She ended back in the theater room, hands on hips, stymied in her intention.

  Glancing out the back glass doors, the sight of the sun setting suddenly told her exactly where he was. She moved to the door, opening it. He stood, facing the setting sun, hat low on his head, covered in sweatpants and sweatshirt. She could see the heaving of his breath.

  Suddenly he flung his arms out and let out the same agonized yell that she’d heard the first time she’d seen him. As then, her heart contracted with pity. This time, knowing him better, she wondered if she should step outside and throw her arms around him in comfort, or run to her room and bury herself under the covers. A feeling of intruding settled over her and she quickly withdrew, quietly closing the door. She could still hear him.

  She wanted to run up the stairs and hide. Instead, she went back to the weight room. A stereo in the corner provided the music to cover the sound of his cry. She turned it up, then turned on the treadmill, stepping on. She jogged until he entered the room. And kept jogging.

  Calli looked at him, saw the anguish still etched on his face, as much on the damaged side as the other. Instead of giving away that she knew what he’d been up to, she smiled and waved.

  * * * * *

  Alex stared at Calli, jogging on the treadmill, clearly out of breath. His eyes dropped to her jeans and slippers. Completely inappropriate workout wear. Her tee was plain black and threadbare. He shook his head, his anger at finding her here draining in his amazement at her lack of being prepared for any kind of exercise.

  He walked over and turned the blasting music down, grateful she’d had it that loud. When he’d stepped outside, he hadn’t thought about the fact that she was here and might see. Not that she hadn’t seen before. Still.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Ah, you’re speaking to me again?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, and she grinned back.

  “I’m exercising, Alex. Surely you can figure that out, you with your college smarts, and all.”

  He flipped the switch, shutting the treadmill off. She stumbled a little at the abrupt stop.

  “Hey!”

  “Are you trying to injure yourself?” he asked.

  “Yes, Alex, that was my thought when I chose the most dangerous machine imaginable—the big, bad treadmill.”

  He ran an indicative hand down her attire. “Jeans bind you. They aren’t meant for exercise. And slippers, really? Surely with your above-the-classes-you’re-taking smarts you can figure out they aren’t meant for workouts.”

  Calli leaned over, hands on knees, breathing hard. “Yeah, well, we don’t all have a Daddy Warbucks to buy us the right shoes.”

  “You had on tennis shoes earlier.”

  “Can you go back to not speaking to me?” she asked irritably.

  He turned to leave and she stepped off the treadmill quickly, putting a hand on his arm.

  “I’m teasing, Alex. Please don’t give me the silent treatment again. I prefer you being mean to me than ignoring me.”

  He looked down at her hand, then slowly brought his gaze to hers. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “It’s not that hard, Alex. I’m pretty simple.” He opened his mouth and she held a finger up. “Let me rephrase that. I’m pretty basic.”

  Alex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her comment. This was the Calli he’d began to trust last night, but he knew there was also the Calli he’d heard this morning, and the Calli who snuck onto his property to glimpse the monster.

  She stretched one of her legs, and he shook his head again. “Did you stretch before you exercised?”

  She gave him a lopsided grin. “Um, no, not really.”

  “Do you have a swimsuit?”

  “That’s random. Feeling up to a swim, are you?”

  “No, I’m thinking you need to get in the hot tub before your muscles knot up.”

  “I’m thinking you might be right,” she conceded, surprising him. “Meet you there?”

  Alex looked away. There’s no way he would let her see him in his swimsuit, but he supposed he could sit outside with her. He nodded and she walked out of the room, moving a bit like an old lady. A few seconds later, he heard her calling him. He hurried out and saw her standing on the second step.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Um, just wondering if you’re willing to lend me a bit of a hand getting up the stairs. My legs are a bit noodelish.”

  “Noodleish? Is that a word?”

  “For my purposes, it is.”

  She hooked her arm through his as they began their slow ascent. After about five steps, he grunted and leaned down, sweeping her up into his arms, ignoring the screaming pain that came into his right arm with the action.

  “What are you doing?” she squealed, wrapping an arm around his neck.

  “I’m not hitting on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just don’t have all night to try to get you up two flights of stairs.”

  “Ha-ha,” she said sarcastically, but she didn’t complain again. When they reached her room, he set her on her feet.

  “I’ll wait for you out here,” he said.

  “No, come in. You can wait in my room and I’ll change in the bathroom.”

  He would have refused, but she didn’t wait for an answer, just moved into the room, leaving the door ajar for him. He stood for a few moments before deciding he was being dumb. It wouldn’t hurt to wait inside.

  He stepped in, and realized he hadn’t been in this room since shortly after they moved here seven years earlier. It brought memories of an identical room from a different place crashing over him. He’d forgotten how it was decorated—just like his mom’s in their last
house. He should have stayed in the hall, would have moved back into the hall until the sheets showing with the turned back bed caught his attention.

  He stepped closer and ran his hands across the cotton surface. He knew that there would have been silk sheets placed on the bed for her. It was a matter of pride for Meredith with guests to make sure they slept on the best. That’s what she’d been complaining about, wanting cotton sheets?

  Calli opened the bathroom door and he stepped back guiltily. She had one of the towels wrapped around her body beneath her arms. He could see the blue straps of her suit above the white towel.

  “Can I ask you something before we go back down?” she asked. He nodded. Her question was as unexpected as the sheets: “Can you show me how to turn the shower on?”

  * * * * *

  Alex was right. The warm water soothed her muscles. Calli couldn’t exactly admit that she knew she needed to stretch but hadn’t because she didn’t want to get caught watching him. She also wouldn’t tell him how impressed she was that he’d carried her up two flights of stairs—and back down again—and wasn’t even out of breath. And even under threat of torture she would not admit that when he’d first swept her up into his arms she’d almost screamed out in terror.