by L. D. Davis
“Stop,” she said with a giggle. Then her expression became less humorous. We stopped just outside of the banquet room. “You know I was having a hard time with things. Leo was…he was a good friend and a complete gentleman.”
I gave her a small smile. “I’m glad to hear that.” I really was glad to hear it. I went to open the door, but Sandy stopped me.
“Are you going to see him before you fly away again?” she asked.
“We’re having breakfast tomorrow,” I said.
She wriggled her eyebrows. “In bed?”
I let out a sound of exasperation. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Why is that absurd? I saw you two all cozy just now, and I know for a fact that—”
“Sandy,” I said her name with very little patience. “If you got me to come down here with some kind of hookup plan in mind for me, you are going to be disappointed.”
“But you told me about—”
One night over a few bottles of wine, I told Sandy everything that happened between Leo and me. It felt good to be able to tell someone and not carry it around on my own. I did try to tell Leslie, on many occasions, but something always came up and the conversation was always cut short. I refused to tell her in text or email, but even getting her to stay on the phone long enough was difficult. Eventually, I stopped trying.
“I know what I told you, San,” I said, sighing. “But I was just talking, okay? I didn’t tell you those things because I had regrets or anything like that. You and I were just talking and it came up, and I trust you with that information. But that’s all it was. Just talking. What you are trying to suggest can never happen.”
Her lips twisted and she put a hand on her hip. “Because of girl code.”
“Because of girl code—you of all people should know all about girl code. It was your neighbor; a person you thought was your new BFF that stole your husband.”
She shook her head, frustrated. “That was different. You don’t even talk to Leslie, and they haven’t really been together in years.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s been a hundred years,” I said, trying not raise my voice. “Yeah, Leslie and I don’t talk that much, but I’m trying to be a loyal friend, Sandy. I hate what I did, so I’ll be as loyal as I can until the day I die—to her, to you, to any of my friends.”
Sandy stared at me for a long, silent moment. I thought she was going to say something profound, but Sandy being Sandy said, “I know I said I wasn’t interested, but if you ever find out what the Pesciano Pecker looks like, you’ll have to give me every detail.”
I used my best Danny Zuko via John Travolta in Grease impression. “Sandy!”
We broke out into a fit of immature giggles and rejoined the party.
Throughout the night, I was asked repeatedly about Leslie, but I didn’t have many answers. I only talked to her maybe once a month in brief text messages. I hadn’t laid my eyes on her in over four years. It was a little embarrassing, because some people knew more about her than I did, where she was working, what she was doing with her life, but as it turned out, a lot of people grew apart over the years. Very few people who were as close as Leslie and I had remained that close. It was actually kind of sad.
I mingled for another hour and a half before I really began to feel the effects of my redeye flight from L.A. I was yawning and apologizing for it every couple of minutes. I wanted to find a quiet corner, curl up, and sleep for two days. I was beginning to regret the high heels on my feet. It felt like too much effort to walk in them. A lot of people were beginning to leave and I thought that was a good idea, especially since my “date” was ready to go.
“You don’t have to leave just because I’m leaving,” Sandy said as she searched her purse for her keys.
I yawned and covered my mouth so I wouldn’t be rude and do it in her face. “I’m exhausted. I’m completely done in.”
“When did you get so old?”
“Probably around the same time you did. I wish you were staying. A lot of people are hanging out for a few days and doing the beach and some of the clubs.”
“We’re too old for clubs, bitch,” Sandy said, distracted by her phone. “Besides, I have to be back at work tomorrow night. New job and all of that. No calling out or vacationing on the beach in Miami for a while. Just because you slack at your job doesn’t mean I can slack at mine.”
I was a total slacker. I hadn’t written more than a few paragraphs in a week because the closer I got to the reunion, the more nervous I was and I couldn’t function right. I glanced at Leo across the room and wondered why I had been so stupid about it. When his eyes met mine and he smiled widely at me, even though he was obviously in the middle of talking to someone, my heart stuttered and then I remembered why I was so stupid. Still stupid.
“When do you think you’ll be back in New Jersey?” San asked me.
“I’ll probably fly back Monday or Tuesday.”
“Yeah, Rob’s tired of watering your plants.”
Rob was my next-door neighbor and a very good friend. I had a huge crush on him when I first moved into my apartment. He was friendly, funny, and into the same music and movies that I was, but after one make out session, I confessed that kissing him was what it would probably feel like to kiss my brother, and that was that.
I tilted my head to the side. “When did you talk to Rob?”
Sandy’s smile was cute, a little shy, but definitely full of mischief. “We text.”
“Since when?”
“Since a couple of weeks ago when I ran into him at the Shop Rite.” She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling.
I narrowed my eyes. “You like him!”
“He’s okay,” she said, shrugging.
I wanted to interrogate her. I had a feeling more was going on than what she was saying. I wasn’t jealous, but I didn’t want to be left out on the details because she thought maybe I would have a problem with it. I had a bunch of questions on the tip of my tongue, but Leo came over before I could get any of them out.
“You leaving, San?” he asked.
“Yeah, I have an early flight.”
Leo looked disappointed as he pulled her in for a hug. “I miss having you around. Come back soon, okay? You’ll always have a place to stay. I’m still pissed you stayed in a hotel this time.”
“I didn’t want to be a pest, but now that you’ve said that, I am going to totally use you for your guest room. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Sandy said, pulling away. “Don’t let anyone use my coffee mug. It’s mine.”
He chuckled. “You got it.”
“So, breakfast tomorrow,” I said around a yawn.
“You’re leaving?” Leo looked surprised.
“Uh, yeah. My date is leaving.”
“But you are staying in two different hotels and took two different cars.”
“So what?” I said defensively.
“So, you don’t have to leave with your date.”
“I don’t want her to leave with me anyway.” Sandy jumped in and then whispered, “She gets touchy feely, if you know what I mean.”
“San!” I exclaimed.
They both laughed and I grinned at my friend’s idiocy.
“I was hoping I could convince you to come over for a little while tonight,” Leo said to me.
I looked at San. She raised an eyebrow and tried hard not to smile. “Anyway, I better go,” she said loudly. She hugged Leo quickly once more before embracing me. “You should really get some of that PP,” she whispered before stepping away from me. “See ya, guys,” she said with that mischievous smile.
I watched her leave and just barely resisted throwing something at the back of her head.
“Come over,” Leo said in a soft tone.
I turned to look at him and was a little startled by how close he had gotten when I wasn’t looking. His gaze was steady and heavy. I almost made a gulping sound when I swallowed.
“It’s late,” I answered. “And I’m exhausted.
I did just fly in from Cali this morning.”
“Just for a little while,” he insisted. “If you can’t make it back to the hotel, you can always sleep in the guest room.”
“We’re having breakfast in the morning,” I reminded him.
“It will be morning in a little more than an hour,” he said, grinning.
God, he was even closer, our bodies were almost touching. Static crackled up my fingers and arm when his fingers brushed over mine at my side.
I swallowed hard again before answering. “I wasn’t expecting breakfast that early.”
“So, hang out for a little while and then we’ll still do breakfast later.”
“I’m tired,” I said lamely, but that wasn’t quite true anymore. I suddenly felt wide-awake.
“I don’t really care.” Leo’s voice was gentle, yet husky. His fingers trailed over mine once more before carefully closing over them. “I know that makes me sound like a dick, but I don’t really care if you’re tired. I am trying to make up for nine years of lost time.”
My lungs evaporated, like totally left my body. I felt like I wasn’t breathing at all as I looked up at him and as his thumb traced lightly over my knuckles.
I should say no and go back to my hotel room. I should say no. Tabitha, say no.
“Okay,” I said, ignoring that little voice in my head. “But I want to at least stop at my hotel and change.”
Leo’s grin was huge and infectious. He looked like a little boy that was just told he won a lifetime supply of candy.
Candy…Leo’s kisses…
“That’s fine,” he said happily.
I stepped back from him, pulling my hand out of his because hell, we were standing as close as lovers, holding hands, in the middle of a room that still had a lot of people in it. People who knew that Leslie used to be his girlfriend and that I used to be Leslie’s best friend.
I saved Leo’s address in my phone and then made my rounds to say goodbye to my old classmates. I promised Leo I would be over in an hour and then left for my hotel room. I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of denim capris and a nerdy T-shirt that said “Bookworm” on it, with a cute cartoon worm with reading glasses and an open book in its little wormy hands. I slipped on some flip-flops and pulled my hair out of the French roll it had been in, brushing it out until it fell in soft layers on my shoulders.
When I was finished, I still had a few minutes to spare, so I sat down on the edge of my bed and shot Leslie a text. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I was worried about what other people may tell her about Leo’s little displays of affection, but maybe it didn’t look as bad as I imagined. Everyone knew Leo and I were good friends, too. I decided to just make it simple and casual.
Hey, Les! How are you? I’m in Miami for the reunion—I actually enjoyed it. Wish you could have made it. Miss you. Hit me up sometime so I can tell you all about it.
I sighed after I sent the message. If she answered me at all, it would probably be days and have nothing to do with what I said, and she most likely wouldn’t call. I accepted long ago that our friendship would never be like it was before, that she really wasn’t my best friend anymore, but it made my chest ache. I didn’t know what happened between us, besides the obvious, but she didn’t know about any of that. Maybe she just outgrew me, which kind of made me feel stagnant, like old, dirty water left in a bucket too long, good for nothing.
Okay, so maybe I had a hard time letting go. We shared a lot of good times together, and she was there for me when shit got real, especially when we confirmed my brother was doing drugs, and long before that she had been the friend I held hands with on the playground. We had planned out our lives when we were only nine. We knew who we would marry, how many kids we would have, each with a name, and we knew where we would buy our side-by-side houses. Nothing turned out as planned, and I understand that that’s life, but it didn’t hurt any less not to have her a part of my life.
But…a part of me believed in karma. I lost my best friend because of my actions, for breaking that code. It didn’t matter if I told her or not. The universe knew what I did, and the universe had given me a huge reprimand.
My thoughts were interrupted by an incoming text. Hopeful that it was Leslie so I could confess my sins, I eagerly opened my messaging app, but it was just Leo. Well, not just Leo, but it wasn’t Leslie. I frowned a little
e.
You better not stand me up, Tacky.
I rolled my eyes and smiled. I hated that nickname, but I hadn’t heard it in years.
Calm down, loser. I’m on my way.
I put the phone in my back pocket and left to go visit with my friend. Leslie’s high school sweetheart. And the guy that probably, still to that day, knew me better than any other guy ever did or ever would. That comforted me.
And scared the hell out of me.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked Leo as I observed the small mess on his countertop and the pans of food on his stove.
“Making breakfast,” he looked at me like it should have been obvious.
“I thought we agreed that it’s way too early for breakfast, and didn’t you just eat a ton of food a few hours ago?”
Leo put his hands up in defense. He spoke around the pile of bacon he just stuffed into his mouth. “I’m a guy, Tabs. I’m always hungry. I eat a lot.”
I crossed my arms and looked at his well-managed body with disdain. He had changed into a dark gray T-shirt that clung to his athletic frame and a pair of black gym shorts.
“I guess all of the calories you consume automatically just turn into muscle, huh?” It was meant to be sarcastic and a little bitchy, but Leo grinned at me as he chewed and then swallowed.
“You checking me out, Tabs?”
I blew air out my mouth, making my hair flutter. “Not on your life, Pesciano,” I lied. I mean, how could I not check him out? He was always a good-looking guy and I didn’t think it was possible for him to get better looking with age, but he did. He totally pulled it off. He was smoking hot before, but now he was just…on fire.
“Stop pouting and come over here and help me cook,” he said, still wearing that stupid grin.
I sighed and rounded the long counter that separated his kitchen from the living room and met him at the stove. He handed me the spatula for the pancakes.
“Why do I always get pancake duties?” I whined.
“Because you’re the best pancake maker there is,” he said, nudging me gently.
“Okay, I can live with that,” I said with a small lift of my shoulder. “Is this what you do on your dates? Bring the woman to your house and cook?”
“Is this a date?” he asked in that soft voice he had used at the party.
“No, it is not,” I said quickly and pointed my spatula at him.
“Okay, don’t get violent. I rarely bring my dates home.”
“But since I’m not a date, I’m allowed into the swanky bachelor pad?”
And it was swanky. One room flowed into the next without any walls to separate them. Two whole walls in the dining room and living room were made of glass with an ocean view. Even in the dark night, I could catch a glimpse of the ocean crashing to the shore not too far away. Between those enormous windows and the skylights in the ceiling, the place probably got a lot of natural sunlight during the day. The couch and chairs were a dark blue, masculine in color and design, but also looked pretty comfortable. The décor was simple, but elegant. The place wasn’t cluttered with useless showy items.
“Even if you were a date—by the way, I think this qualifies as a date—you will always be allowed in the pad.”
I smiled at that but said, “This isn’t a date.”
He murmured something softly in Italian that I didn’t catch. I understood Italian fairly well after studying the language throughout high school and college, but I had no idea what he said. Whatever it was, sent warmth racing down my spine.
Okay, I admit, I used to
love when he did that when we were kids. He could have said “I like pickles” and it would have been a turn-on. I never admitted it to him then, since I had such a hate/hate relationship with him, but I did tell Leslie it was kind of sexy. We had laughed about it and used fake Italian accents for the rest of that day.
“What did you say?” I asked, staring at him.
“Oh.” He actually looked a little embarrassed. Unbelievable. “Nothing. I think we’re done. Nice job, pancake lady.”
I flipped the final pancake high and caught it with my spatula. Psh, yeah, I rocked at pancakes.
“So what are you working on?” Leo asked a little while later as we sat at the counter with plates of food. He poured a glass of orange juice for me and waited for my answer.
Ugh.
I loved my job, being an author was exactly what I dreamed of doing. How many people truly get to live their dream? I was one of the lucky ones, but sometimes I really hated talking about what I did. People ask questions, and that’s fine, but then they want me to tell them the whole story before I’ve even written it, or they make bizarre suggestions that have nothing to do with the storyline, or they think they know my characters better than I do and try to tell me how to write my books. It drives me bananas.
“I am working on the first book in a series for young adults,” I said after a sip of juice.
“What is it about?”
“Hmm.” I crunched into some bacon.
“What? You don’t want to tell me?” Leo’s eyebrow arched.
“It’s just...I don’t usually talk about what I’m writing,” I said with a small shrug.
“Come on. You know I used to love hearing about your latest projects.”
So true. When Leo and I finally became actual friends and started to get along like decent human beings, he always asked me about what I was writing and after I realized he was seriously interested, I always told him after that.
So I told him about my books and his interest wasn’t feigned. He listened intently and asked questions. He looked at me the entire time, which made it hard for me to speak without stumbling over my words. His gaze was more than interested, but I felt like he was trying to soak up every inch of my face and store it away in his memory for safekeeping.
