Kittenfish: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy
Page 17
“So what’s good here?” he asks, and I laugh, thinking he must be joking. At his puzzled expression, I explain. “They’re known for pho, the noodles here. I’d imagine anything involving those would be good.”
Brandon nods and returns his attention to the menu. I open mine, but I’m not really looking at it. I’d decided what to order when I looked at the menu at home an hour ago.
I set the menu down on the table and run my fingers across the grooved surface of the dark chocolate-colored wood grain. It calls to mind the exact shade of the shirt Tarek was wearing when I last had my hands on him, the smoothness of the fabric beneath my sliding fingertips.
I clasp my hands and make myself concentrate on Brandon. “So what are you thinking?”
He taps the open menu with his finger. “Um, I’m thinking the pho with shrimp.”
“Sounds good.” I nod my approval. He smiles and closes his menu, stacking it atop mine, and places them flush against the corner of the table. He reaches for my hand and I let him hold it, though I consider pulling it back after a moment. Why do I feel weird about holding his hand?
I can only chalk up my reaction to residual Tarek exposure, like how the first time someone uses heroin it explodes the pleasure receptors in their brain so every subsequent pleasure they experience pales in comparison. Or so I’ve read.
Tarek is heroin.
Now that I recognize that, I can overcome it. Awareness of the problem is the first step toward recovery. Even heroin addiction can be treated, right? Recovery is possible. Methadone. Brandon deserves my attention, and our relationship shouldn’t suffer just because my mind’s been blown by Tarek’s carnival ride. I can muster up some lust for Brandon. I squeeze his hand and shoot him an almost-suggestive smile. He sits up straighter and smiles back with a little more hope than I’d intended to incite.
I let go of his hand when our waiter, a red-haired man in his early twenties with a Bluetooth in his right ear, arrives to take our order. I wonder if he’s listening to directions from the kitchen or just chatting with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t say anything that clues me in.
We tell him our order, and he doesn’t write it down which makes me nervous. If there’s no written proof of what I ordered, he could come back with meatloaf.
Miraculously, he gets our orders right, and Brandon and I enjoy our pho, even tasting each other’s, which is my favorite thing about a dining companion. Tarek never lets anyone share his food. He always tells Kya and me that he ordered it because he wants to eat it and to keep our hands off. I take an extra bite of Brandon’s pho just to spite Tarek in my mind.
“What should we do after dinner?” Brandon asks, the hope over-bright in his eyes.
“Oh, sorry. I’m going to have to call it a night. I have an early morning hike with Kya tomorrow.” Or I can call her and tell her we’re hiking tomorrow morning because I want a legitimate excuse to end this date now. Brandon is nice, but I’m still evaluating him against Liam. I should keep it fair. Yesterday was only dinner with Liam. So Brandon’s date will also end after our meal. There’s no other reason why I don’t want to extend tonight’s date.
“Okay. Well, no problem. Hopefully we can get together again this week.”
I smile and reach my hand out to hold his. “Definitely.”
’Cause anyone can kick a heroin addiction in a few days, right?
∞∞∞
Blaire and Kya come over Sunday night to help me evaluate my dates with Liam and Brandon in detail.
“You didn’t sleep with either of them?” Blaire whines from my favorite chair. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“It’s not the only reason you’re here—you love my cookies—and no, I was never going to sleep with them on these dates. I want a chance to get to know them without complicating things yet.”
“But you already know Liam,” Kya points out as she reaches for a chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie.
Blaire sits up straight. “Exactly. You could skip ahead and sleep with him. Makeup sex is always hot.” She looks at me accusingly and picks up her glass of wine. “You’d have better stories then.”
If Blaire only knew the exciting sex story I wasn’t telling her.
“But Liam is an asshole.” Kya nibbles her cookie. “He betrayed her once—he’ll do it again.”
“And Brandon is boring.” Blaire jabs a pointy nail at Kya. “Just the sight of him puts me to sleep.”
We’re losing focus here, and I’m getting a little annoyed.
“We’re not here to criticize them in general.” I pour myself a large glass of wine. “It’s to compare them against each other, see which one’s better for me.”
“Why do these guys have to be the only two choices?” Blaire taps her fingernails against her glass. “I don’t like either one of them. Isn’t there a box for none of the above?”
“I know they’re not the only two men in the world, but they’re both attractive, solid men and viable candidates for my future happiness. And, Liam says he’s back for good. He seems fully committed to us. I think they’re both candidates with long-term potential. They’re what I’m looking for as a life partner. I’m considering them.”
“Why do you have to consider anyone?” Blaire looks at me like she’s really asking, like I’m the one who’s odd.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why do you need to find a responsible life partner? You’re thirty. You’ve got time.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No. No no no. Time is something I don’t have. My parents were eighteen and nineteen when they got married, and they are disgustingly happy and super supportive of each other. Love is finding that one person you can build a life with and then traveling the road to death together. I’m way behind. Even if I got married tomorrow, my husband will have missed out on so much of my life-building already.”
Blaire shakes her head and looks at me like I’ve shaken her world. “You need to forget about evaluating these guys for their life-building potential and find someone who sets your panties on fire.”
“Amen to that!” Kya gets up and clinks glasses with Blaire.
“Passion fades. Love is constancy, commitment. You chase passion, you end up like Tarek with one meaningless physical encounter after the other.”
Kya and Blaire share a look. Before I can grill them on what they’re not saying, the doorbell rings. Blaire jumps up. “I’ll get it! I’m so bored right now I’d even welcome a home invasion.”
“That’s not funny,” Kya calls out to her. Kya turns back to me. “That really isn’t funny.”
“I know.” I pat her hand. Kya’s a bit high-strung lately.
“It’s just inappropriate.”
“I know it is. But you know Blaire.”
“You know Blaire, what?” Blaire asks as she returns from answering the door to our home invader.
Tarek.
Her arm is looped through his, and his face is flushed. He looks harassed. Did she drag him inside?
I haven’t seen him since the morning after we slept together, four days ago. He’d been gone when I’d gotten home from work, of course. The only trace that he’d even been here was his scent on my pillow. I’d buried my face in it that next night, and ended up falling asleep hugging it. First thing in the morning I changed my sheets. It was just sex, after all. A lot like he has been lately—comforting, fun, and not the least bit real.
“Hey, Marissa.” The man himself is looking down at me from his trapped-by-Blaire position.
“Hey.” I frown. Why is he here? It’s weird, right? Yes, I answer myself. Definitely weird. “What can I do for you?”
He looks from me to Kya.
“Were you looking for me?” Kya raises her head from the extra cookies she’s gathering onto a napkin. Her strategy seems to be to crowd as many as it will hold, though why she feels she has to pre-gather them confuses me until I remember she grew up with Tarek. He swiped all the cookies before she got any.
We all look at him blankly.
“That one Kya lent you.” He focuses intensely on me as if pleading with me to go along with his excuse. “That one I brought over that time?”
“Outlander?” Kya and I both say in shock.
“Yeah. That’s the one,” he says and swallows. “It looked good when I was, uh, carrying it before.”
Blaire’s eyes go wide. She lets go of his arm and reclaims her seat on the couch.
Oh, there is definitely weirdness here.
“Um, okay. I’ll see if I can find it.” I get up and go to my bedroom, feeling Blaire and Kya’s eyes on me the whole way.
“I’ll help,” Tarek says and follows me.
My gut squeezes. He should not be “helping” me. Kya and Blaire are going to lose their minds.
I step into my bedroom with Tarek close behind. I can hear him breathing, feel the heat radiating from his body. He shuts the door behind us, throws the lock soundlessly, and backs me up onto the bed.
Suddenly we’re horizontal. He’s kissing me and every stupid cell in my body is loving it and crying out for more, but oh please, oh my, what the hell is he doing here?
I pull away. “Stop!” I whisper forcefully and get a hand on his chest between us.
He freezes. He looks down at me, his eyes aching with some unnamed emotion.
“What the hell are you doing?” I poke him in his solid chest.
He closes his eyes and winces like he’s in pain, though I really didn’t poke him that hard. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew.”
What kind of game is he playing? Is this some new way to torture me?
“Get off me.” I push him away with both hands.
He gets up and sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. I scoot out from behind him and take the book from my bedside table.
“Maybe we should talk,” he says in a strangled voice.
“What for?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I say, “Follow me,” without looking at him.
I unlock the door and try to arrange my features into as bland an expression as I can manage. I turn the knob.
“Yeah, this is it. You can borrow it for as long as you want”—I try to sound as if we are mid-conversation—“but please give it back to me before you return it to Kya.”
I hand Outlander to him and prompt him with my eyes to continue with my normal conversation. Kya and Blaire are both staring at us. Blaire’s kneeling on the couch with her chin propped on the back for a better view.
“If you aren’t finished with it, I can wait.” He pushes the book back toward me, face flushed.
I cross my arms, refusing to take back his whole alibi for being here. “That’s okay. You came all the way over here just to get this. I’ve got a lot of other books in line ahead of it. It’ll be a while till I can get to it. Enjoy.”
He looks down at the novel in his hand and thumbs through the pages. “I’ll be sure to get it back to you. Soon.”
I nod and walk him to the door, careful not to make eye contact with Blaire or Kya. Show no fear, I tell myself. Don’t give them any more fodder for questions.
I let Tarek out of the apartment and hurry to lock the door behind him.
“What the hell is wrong with your brother, Kya?” I explode as I stride back into the living room. Sometimes the only good defense is a strong offense.
Kya sits up straight. Blaire gets down from kneeling on the couch and turns around.
“I—I don’t know.” Kya glances from my annoyed face to my partially open bedroom door.
I put my hands on my hips and shake my head, thinking fast. “It’s so weird that he couldn’t wait to borrow the book now that he’s hooked on the show.”
“Wait.” Blaire holds up a hand. “Tarek is watching Outlander?” She stares in wonder at the front door through which he’s just departed. Kya looks equally perplexed.
I roll my eyes and throw my arms up in the air. “Yes! Weird, right? He kept talking to me about it”—I gesture toward my bedroom—“and I had to tell him I’m only three episodes into season one, so—”
“You’re only three episodes into season one?” Blaire’s tone is incredulous when she interrupts me.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got to finish it.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I will.”
“You should.” Blaire points her finger at me for emphasis.
I glance at Kya who’s silently studying me.
“Your brother’s weird,” I say again and shake my head.
“Maybe,” she says with a calculating expression. “Maybe.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Giselle Bisset
I’ve been thinking about you more and more. I think when you’re far away from someone you can feel closer to them than ever.
Tarek Oliver
Sometimes when you’re physically close to someone they can feel farther away than ever.
∞∞∞
After Blaire and Kya leave, I spend a little time writing Tarek as Giselle, but I’m so confused by his behavior tonight that I quit early and lie on the floor.
It’s been a while since I’ve communed with the carpet—since Liam left me and I lived on it instead of going on my honeymoon.
Things feel simpler down here. It’s a good place to dwell and figure things out. And to let your worries go and just be.
Be the carpet. Be the fiber. Be the lump on the floor.
In my Zen-like carpet and fiber state, I decide I have to step things up with Giselle and Tarek. He’s definitely responding to her more emotionally now. When Lexy comes back, I’ll plan a genuinely romantic date for them—alone this time—and love can be professed on both sides.
Maybe there’ll even be kissing.
I lean up on my elbows, thinking about Tarek kissing Giselle. There’s an unpleasant shifting in my gut, but I tell myself there shouldn’t be. Tarek kisses women. Lots and lots of women. And he sleeps with them. Like he slept with me. That’s what he does. And he doesn’t care about them. And he ruins the relationships of people who do care.
So I need to put aside any personal distaste I may feel and hope that Giselle and Tarek kiss the hell out of each other. And then my plan will work.
∞∞∞
Tarek Oliver
Are you awake? It’s the middle of the night there, right?
Giselle Bisset
I’m awake. But it’s pretty late in Atlanta, too, isn’t it?
Tarek Oliver
I can’t sleep.
Giselle Bisset
Try hot milk.
Tarek Oliver
That sounds disgusting.
Giselle Bisset
It is. You have to add a lot of melted chocolate to make it palatable.
Tarek Oliver
Then it’s hot chocolate! Not milk.
Giselle Bisset
You caught me.
Let me tell you my secret for a truly fantastic virgin margarita. I’ll give you a hint. It’s tequila.
∞∞∞
“I think someone’s flirting with me,” Kya says without preamble as I let her into my apartment Tuesday evening.
“Oo-oo-ooh!” I sing in three syllables like we did in fifth grade. I’m happy to hear it. She’s been so down since Trina. She stopped going to the gym. I think the lack of endorphins has affected her mood and made her breakup recovery prognosis even longer. “Who? What? How?”
She laughs, a light, happy sound that makes my heart smile for her. “It’s my pizza delivery girl.” She grins and shows her dimple that matches Tarek’s.
Tarek. My belly stirs and my heart speeds up remembering when he intercepted the pizza at Kya’s place. And that kiss in the stairwell. And everything that happened that night. On the couch. On the bed. On the floor. Oh my.
My pulse is racing now, and I fan my face with my hand and
tell my mind to settle down and tune into Kya.
“I ordered a pizza one night, and we chatted, and there was a definite spark.” She perches on a stool by my kitchen counter. I pour us some sweet tea.
“Sounds promising.” I slide her glass in front of her.
“So I ordered a pizza the next night. You know how you always get a different delivery person every time?”
“Yeah.” I maybe don’t order pizza a tenth as often as she does, but whatever.
“Well, it was her again!”
I laugh at the delight on Kya’s face.
She wraps her hands around her drink and scoots forward excitedly. “And we spent half an hour talking, which was actually too bad because her other pizzas got cold and were going to be late so she said she probably wouldn’t get any tips.”
“Oooh, yeah.” I cluck sympathetically.
“And then I ordered a pizza last night, and it was her again! And she just went ahead and gave me her number so she could make her other deliveries before they got cold. I called her, and we talked for two hours. We’re going out tomorrow night!”
“Kya, that’s fantastic. And that’s way more than just someone flirting with you. This is a whole new thing. I’m so happy for you.” I clap and give her a hug.
“Thanks.” She beams.
I lean my elbows on the counter and cup my chin in my hand. With Kya ditching her gym membership because of Trina and taking up pizza-ordering as an Olympic sport, her rock-hard calves may soon be a thing of the past. But I’m happy if she’s happy.
“What’s her name?”
“Chloe.” She smiles. “She’s beautiful. Short and sweet with a pixie haircut.”
I nod. “Pretty much the complete opposite of Trina.”