Kim Karr: Dazed

I look at him. His lips are so close to mine. All I’d have to do is stand on my toes to kiss him. What? Why am I even thinking that? “Why do you keep saying that? And please stop calling me Alice.”

“You don’t like it? I find it endearing.”

My hands go to my hips. “Well, I don’t.”

“It’s happening again you know.”

And it is. I turn away because I can feel the flush creeping up my body and I really want it to stop. I open a lower cupboard and pull out a dessert plate. The cupcakes I bought are still in the bag on the counter, but I don’t see his bag anywhere. Just as I’m about to ask where it is, Jagger opens the refrigerator and pulls out his beautiful pristine box of black and white cupcakes and hands it to me. “Here, put these on the plate. You should always keep cakes in the refrigerator. It keeps the icing set and makes the cake’s flavor come alive.”

I look at him skeptically.

“It does,” he says. “I promise.”

“Sounds plausible,” I answer.

He chuckles at me. “You’re so serious.”

I shrug with a small, self-conscious laugh but agree. “Yes, I am.” I set the box down on the table.

He puts his hand over mine and again I shiver. “Hey, I didn’t know when I bought those that you were upset, but I know now. So, Alice, please forgive me for stealing your cupcakes.”

Oh my God. The things his touch does to me. I don’t know if I should melt away out of embarrassment or jump for joy out of elation.

By the end of the evening, I’ve almost chewed my thumb raw out of nervousness, my jaw aches from laughter, and I think I’ve spent more time socializing in this one evening than I have in months—and I’ve actually enjoyed myself. Jagger makes me nervous and makes me laugh at the same time. I have to say he’s unlike any guy I’ve ever met—witty, smart, and so good looking. I can’t get over how he can look like he does and still come across as all guy.

It’s just the two of us sitting outside now. I’m sipping on the chocolate chai tea and I’m rather enjoying it. Xander called River and he and Dahlia stepped inside to take the call. River decided to quit the band just before they got married and Xander is on the road without him. I’m sure it must be strange. The two of them worked together for a long time. From what I overheard, the tour has kicked off with a bang and things are going well. I raise my head and breathe in the cool winter nighttime air.

“The weather is gorgeous in California. I don’t know how anyone could move away after living here,” he says.

“I agree. Did you always live in New York City?”

“Yes. I grew up in Manhattan with my father and once I was on my own I lived in a shithole and then a place that felt more like a frat house,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow and wonder why he chose to live that way.

“It wasn’t that bad, but let’s just say living on my own wasn’t as easy as I thought. And moving home wasn’t an option.”

“Did your dad move away? My parents retired to Florida once I left for college and moving there wasn’t as appealing as staying in California.”

“No, he didn’t. Once I left, I didn’t want to ask my parents for money and I couldn’t afford to get my own place, so I lived with roommates.”

He pours a small amount of tea in his coffee cup. “Smells like chocolate.”

“It is. Chocolate Chai.”

His lips tilt up as he sets the cup down.

“You’re not going to try it?” I ask.

His gaze brightens as he picks up one of the cupcakes that we were all too full to eat. “I think I’ll stick to this kind of chocolate.” He cuts it in half, then edges his chair closer to mine. “I picked these because the menu said it was made with Madagascar Bourbon vanilla.”

I take from his comment that it’s the alcohol, not the actual vanilla, that persuaded him to make his purchase and that makes me laugh.

“Try it.” He lifts half of it and hands it to me.

“Oh, I love those cupcakes. But, really, I’m just too full right now.”

I watch as he eats his piece and feel my breathing pick up speed. I swear I can almost taste the creamy center as he swallows.

He smiles at me as he takes his next bite.

I feel an ache that centers itself right between my legs and I need to focus on something else. “So, tell me, what was so bad about where you lived?”

He leans back in his chair. “Like I said, after college I didn’t have a lot of money. So I lived in a huge old Brooklyn warehouse with five other guys for $2,400 a month. The place was cheap with six of us splitting the rent, but it always felt like six families lived there and quickly had to evacuate—clothes were all over the floor, pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers littered the counters, and empty beer cans were arranged in a triangle on the kitchen table.”

“Why is that?” I ask, trying not to focus on his body.

“It was our pool table,” he shrugs.

I laugh. “That’s innovative. Where did you move after that?”

“Once I took the modeling contract, I moved into the Windham Modeling Agency’s apartment. It was much nicer—a high-rise just outside of Chinatown. It was much cleaner and had maid service, but dudes were floating in and out constantly. It was six bedrooms and a central room with a large kitchen and living room. We had to bunk together, usually only two of us, sometimes three, to a room. A model signed by the agency years before was the super—but he was really our house manager. He was a little over the top with keeping the apartment in order. That place was the complete opposite of my apartment in Brooklyn. But it worked at the time.”

I raise a brow. “That’s an awful lot of roommates.” The thought of that many people living together horrifies me.

He nods. “It was. Do you have a roommate?”

I laugh. “No, I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“No?”

I laugh again. “Just ask Dahlia about me.”

An almost sneaky smile forms on his lips. “I think I might just have to do that.”

Wrapping my yoga jacket around me, I reluctantly stand. “Well, I really need to get going. It’s late and I still have to drive back.”

Jagger looks at the watch on his right wrist. It has a battered large black rubber band with all kinds of buttons and displays. He raises a brow. “It’s almost midnight. You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin are you?”

I smirk and having caught a rhythm with his humor, I give it right back. “Wrong fairy tale. That’s Cinderella, not Alice in Wonderland.”

“Shit, you’re right.” He brings his palm to his forehead. “What am I thinking? What about you? Where do you live? Not the rabbit’s hole and not a carriage, I assume.”

I giggle. Yes, Aerie Daniels, the girl who doesn’t have a funny bone in her body, giggles. What’s wrong with me? “No, I don’t live in a hole or a carriage, but I live in Laguna Beach and it’s like wonderland.”

“So do you recommend the beach over LA? I need to start looking for a place.”

“Well not so much the beach, just the town.”

“You don’t like the beach?”

“No, not really.”

“Hmmm . . .” He’s quiet and it seems as if he’s trying to process what I just said.

“The town is just so full of life. It’s quaint with so many art galleries and boutiques. The bars and restaurants are nice too. The hills have great views and the homes on the bluffs over the ocean on the south side are incredible. I live near town and it’s a short drive to work. Sometimes the traffic is bad, but nothing like if I had to drive to LA. And Laguna is just a really artsy and very liberal place to live.”

“So it’s your l’endroit que vous aimez ?”