The drive along the Pacific coast is gorgeous. The ocean stretches endlessly, a bed of fractured sapphires under the sun. The sky is cloudless and blue, with a few seabirds dotting the horizon. I wrap my hair around my fingers so it doesn’t fly everywhere. The unexpectedly warm, briny wind ruffles Grant’s dark hair.
For once, I feel like my age. Not worried about money or grades or any of those things. It’s just me and a gorgeous guy I think I’m falling for, the infinite ocean and bright, happy sun.
“Did you spend any time in the house we’re about to visit after you left Europe?” I ask.
“Not really. I got my own place. My mother and I don’t like to be in each other’s hair. Like I said, I’ve always been independent. Besides, even if I weren’t, she would’ve hated having me around. She doesn’t like having people over.”
“Okay, but you aren’t just ‘people.’ You’re her son.”
“But not part of her inner circle.”
What?“Who’s in the inner circle if not her family?”
He shrugs. “Her cameras and lenses? Her agent, maybe?”
I don’t understand how he can brush it off. If my mom were around, and if she acted like I was a bother, I’d be hurt. Even though I have no memory of her, thinking about her not wanting me is just painful.
He glances at me, then laughs a little, probably more as an attempt to lighten the mood than out of amusement. “Come on, don’t give me that pitying look. It’s not a big deal. I accepted my situation years and years ago. It doesn’t bug me.” He points to his left. “Look at that coastline instead. We’ll be on it soon.”
After a few more minutes, he pulls into a private driveway dotted with palm trees and hits a few keys on a security keypad. The gates open, letting us onto a slightly curved road. He stops in front of a large two-story structure that stretches away to either side. Grant pops the trunk, and I climb out. The salty breeze carries the sound of crashing waves.
“Wow.” I take a few steps back to see the place better. The walls are white, but the windows are small and not so numerous. Blinds are lowered, covering every window.
“It looks sort of boring from out here,” he says. “It’s better inside.”
We walk up to the main entrance, which is framed by two white columns. A huge potted palm stands next to the door, in front of which is a giant blue doormat with dolphins and waves that reads,You’ve Been Warned: Trespassers Will Be Shot,lying on the tiled entry.
Grant reaches under the upper-left corner of the mat and pulls out a key.
“That’s so…ordinary,” I say, “like it’s something my grandparents might do.”
“What were you expecting?” he says with a laugh.
“I don’t know. Something that very rich people would have. Like ‘Beam me in, Scotty.’”
He laughs harder. “Beam mein?”
“Well, they can’t beam usup.”
He unlocks the door. “You’re killing me. Just so you know, we don’t actually light our cigars with hundred-dollar bills.” He hits a few numbers on the security keypad in the foyer and then waits until the light turns green.
“Right. You just eat caviar.”
“You ate it too,” he counters good-humoredly. “We aren’t that different.”
“That’s true. We aren’t.” And the fact that he thinks this way is probably why I’ve been able to relax around him. It’s hard to be standoffish around a guy who doesn’t treat you different because of money or anything else—refreshing after having dealt with people like Sadie and her friends and some of the frat boys who thought I should be overcome with gratitude if they rubbed shoulders with me.
Grant holds the door and gestures grandly. “After you.”
“Thank you.” I step inside.
The interior is cool and surprisingly dry. It’s mostly decorated in chrome with black accents. Everything is sleek and expensive-looking, and there isn’t a speck of dust anywhere.
Directly ahead is a floor-to-ceiling window that shows a spectacular view of the ocean. The dark blue waves rush the shore and break over the soft-looking sand. The house must be soundproofed, because I can’t hear anything.
“Wow,” I whisper, my face only a couple of inches from the spotless window.
“It’s prettier when the sun sets,” Grant says, coming up behind me. “If you want to hear the waves, you just hit this button here.” He gestures at a white switch to our left. He flips that, and the sound of the waves rolls in.
