by Kim Holden
I hear the voice before I see him. “Shel, this door is paper thin. You think I can’t hear you? And that happened once. And it was on a dare from your man here. There’s no need to exaggerate.” He isn’t offended. In fact, he sounds like he finds the whole conversation humorous. “Thanks for having my back, Dunc.”
Shelly laughs. She’s much more relaxed around her boyfriend. I like that.
And then I see him and I freeze and almost lose the grip on the bottle of beer in my hand. Because stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel hanging low on his hips, is Keller Banks. The Coffee God. Damn. He’s fucking glorious. I need to blink. And breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. He hasn’t noticed me yet.
Duncan points, ineffectively, in my general direction. “Banks, we have a guest.”
“Hey, Keller.” That sounded normal despite my heart beating at a ridiculously fast rate.
His relaxed stance stiffens and his sleepy eyes widen. “Katie? What? How?” he stutters. “What … what are you doing here?” It’s not rude; he’s just at a loss for words.
Which is kind of flattering, because he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who gets tongue-tied, especially around the opposite sex. Not that he’s overly confident. It’s just that guys this good-looking seem to instinctively know how to talk to women. I may have the upper hand here. “I’m out with Shelly tonight. Party got broken up; I guess Superman’s flight was a bust. Literally. We ended up here by default.”
Shelly and Keller look at each other and speak at the same time. “How do you know Kate?” “You’re friends with Katie?” They both look confused.
I look at Keller first. “I work with Shelly at Three Petunias. Oh, and she’s my dance partner when we go clubbing.” I can’t say it with a straight face, and I’m smiling by the time I look to Shelly who’s rolling her eyes and glaring. It’s an impressive combo. “And I know Keller from Grounds. We debate music and I keep him updated on important town news.”
Keller shakes his head slightly. I’m sure it’s hard to think through the haze of alcohol in his system. He’s clearly not as intoxicated as Duncan, but he’s had his share. He puts both hands up, arms outstretched in front of him, like he’s trying to tell us to stop and sways back and forth slightly. I almost step forward to make sure he doesn’t fall over. “Wait. Sorry. This is just—”
“I think he’s freaked out because there’s a woman in our apartment,” Duncan says to Shelly in the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard. “When did he bring her home?”
Shelly cuts off the drunken confusion before it goes any further. “Duncan, Keller didn’t bring her home. I brought her here … with me. Remember?”
Duncan shrugs and finally lays his head in Shelly’s lap.
I take the three or four steps it takes to stand next to Keller. He still looks stunned. I offer my hand. “You need some help there?”
His eyes fight to adjust to my sudden closeness. “Katie.” It’s more a breath than a word. He’s searching my eyes. For what? I’d be turned on if it weren’t for the fact that he can’t see straight. Maybe he is as drunk as Duncan.
I offer my hand again. “Come on, dude.”
He slowly raises his hand and hesitates. “Are you really here?”
“Yup. Had a few cocktails tonight, Keller?”
He nods, his mouth slack, but he eventually takes my hand. His grip is gentle, like he has full control of his motor skills. I know he doesn’t. He starts leaning into me, but his grip remains gentle.
“Keep a hand on that towel, chief. We don’t need accidental full frontal. Keep your junk under wraps.” I mean I wouldn’t mind, I think to myself, but …
Duncan laughs from the loveseat. “That’s a first, Banks.”
I need to get this guy to bed, although the thought stirs something in me, something deep inside ... a need … but no, that’s selfish. No! No sex.
I want to.
I really want to.
But I won’t.
I can’t.
He’s a nice guy; I couldn’t do that to him. No attachments.
Lust-filled, innocent, one-sided crushes? Yes, please.
I need to get this guy to bed so he can pass out and sleep this off is what I need to do. Together, we start to shuffle toward the screens.
Shelly calls out, “Keller’s bed’s on the right.”
“Thanks,” I grunt out, because at this point he has both of his arms wrapped around my shoulders and it feels like I’m dragging dead weight. God, he’s heavy.
A twin bed and a small dresser are the extent of his bedroom furniture behind the screen. There’s an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner next to a fixie bicycle. It’s cramped.
“You play guitar, Keller?”
“Yeah,” is all he can manage.
I’m doomed. Guitar players just do it for me.
I lean forward at the foot of his bed and he topples like a domino. A domino that’s still attached to me.
We’re laying chest to chest, his back on the mattress. I’m sure he’s already passed out cold and even though I could lie here all night against his warm skin, I know that’s wrong on way too many levels. So I close my eyes and allow myself five seconds of heaven. I inhale the fresh, soapy smell of him, minty and clean. I press my hands against his chest where the visible muscles are taut, even though he's relaxed. Mmm …
Five seconds is up. I open my eyes and rest my hands on the bed next to each of his shoulders and push up, trying to extricate myself from the long arms wrapped around me. They don’t budge. I’m about to yell for Shelly to come and help me when I hear his dream-like voice low in my ear. “Stay, Katie.”
My heart is racing again. I raise my head and look him in the eye. He’s so close. And his lips are so pink. And they look so damn soft. He’s just about to drift off, so I whisper back, “You need to sleep, Keller. Close your eyes.”
His eyelids drop. He’s slipping away. “I listened to Debussy. It wasn’t boring. It was beautiful … and sexy.” And he’s gone, lost to alcohol and exhaustion.
I smile, pull myself forward, and kiss him lightly on the forehead, because I need to avoid those lips. “Good night, sweetie.” This time when I try to push up and out of his grip, his arms fall away from me. His legs hang off the bed at his knees but the towel is still in place. I put his pillow under his head and wrap him up like a burrito in his comforter so he doesn’t get cold. His baby face looks so innocent when he’s sleeping. Something stirs inside me, not the sexual urge I felt earlier, but a different kind of longing. A different kind of attraction. My chest aches when I look at him. Every part of me wants to sit here and just watch him sleep, stroke his hair, run my fingertips over every perfect feature of his face, and just be near him. I’ve never felt like this before. And instead of freaking me out, it makes me feel calm.
I need to go. Now.
When I return to Shelly she’s still sitting on the loveseat. Duncan is snoring, his head in her lap. “Sorry this night was so lame, Kate. You’re never going to come out with me again.” She looks bummed.
I smile. “This night wasn’t lame. It just didn’t turn out like you wanted it too. That’s not the same thing. Of course I’ll go out with you again.” I look at Duncan sleeping. “And The Boyfriend seems really nice.”
She smiles sadly. “He is, especially when he’s sober. Sorry you had to meet him like this. He’s at work or in class almost all the time; the poor guy hardly ever goes out. And even when he does he rarely drinks.” Her eyes dart down to him. “I can count on two fingers how many times I’ve seen him like this in the year we’ve dated.”
I hear the love for him in her voice. It makes my heart happy when people feel that kind of love. It’s rare. People don’t take the time to find it. Or they let it go too easily. Or they don’t know how precious it is when they have it.
Shelly knows.
I think Duncan knows, too.
After sliding out from under Duncan and arranging him somewhat comfortabl
y on the loveseat, she covers him up with a blanket and kisses him on the cheek.
“Well, dude, let’s go back to my place and I’ll make you some scrambled eggs and then drive you home. I don’t want you walking around in the middle of the night by yourself.”
She knows how much I love scrambled eggs. We talked about it at work last week. They’re one of my very favorite comfort foods. “You have yourself a deal.”
As Shelly turns out the lights and reaches for the door, she looks at me with a stern, concerned warning. “Please don’t fall for Keller. I saw the way you looked at him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy. Probably one of my best friends actually. He’s the type of person that wants to know everything about you and the type of person that you don’t mind telling everything, too. In fact, you sort of want to talk to him because he’s such a great listener and always there for you when you need him.” She sighs. “But on the flip side, he’s extremely private where his own life’s concerned. He doesn’t let anyone in except Duncan, and maybe Romero. He and Duncan have been friends for years. Duncan lived with him and his family in Chicago before they came here to Grant. He’s like a brother to Duncan and I love him for that, but he’s … mysterious. Personally, I think there are a lot of skeletons in his closet. For instance, he works his ass off, but doesn’t spend his money on anything except flying to Chicago every other weekend—”
“What’s in Chicago?” I interrupt.
Shelly shrugs. “Only Duncan knows, and he won’t tell. I’ve always assumed it’s a girlfriend, because he never dates. Every time I ask him about it he brushes me off. He’s definitely hiding something. Its Keller’s big secret.”
“Secrets aren’t always bad, Shelly. Everyone has baggage.” It feels like a confession. Like I should follow it up with a humble “Amen.”
“Yeah, I know. But Keller’s is like a goddamn pheromone where the females around here are concerned. He’s seemingly unavailable, so what do they do? They line up to have their hearts broken. Because, you know, they’re going to be the one to lure him out of a long distance relationship and win his heart. To his credit, he doesn’t lead them on. I was only giving him a hard time earlier. If he’s not in a relationship I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gay or a virgin. Not that I give a rat’s ass about Keller’s sex life. He’s my friend. And so are you. And I want to keep it that way. So the moral of this little story is that Keller leaves a trail of unintentional heartbreak and destruction in his wake. Please, please don’t let him break yours.”
“Keller and I are friends, just friends, I’m not looking for anything more.” When the words formed in my mind they were true, but as soon as they leave my mouth and are hanging out there between us, something changes. Why do they feel like a lie? It’s that damn baby face … and those damn blue eyes … and that damn body… and that damn crooked smile … and that damn sexy voice.
Damn.
Good thing I can’t get involved. And good thing I don’t do heartbreak. So I repeat it in my mind over and over again: Keller and I are just friends. Keller and I are just friends. By the time we get back to Shelly’s apartment, I almost believe it.
Almost.
Saturday, September 10
(Kate)
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Gus. And it’s 6:45am in California.
“Bonjour Gustov,” I answer. My French accent is overdone and obnoxious.
“Hey Bright Side. I didn’t wake you, did I?” He knows I’m an early riser.
“Nah, it’s practically afternoon here. I’m walking to Grounds as we speak to get some coffee. What’s got you sounding so chipper this early on a Saturday morning?”
“We got the day off for good behavior. I’m headed home to have lunch with Ma and surf with Mags and Stan this afternoon.”
“Sweet. Tell them all I said hi.”
“Dude, I wish you were here. This is like the first normal day I’ve had in a long time and it doesn’t feel right without you.” He sounds sentimental.
And I know how that feels. “Yeah, you lucky bastard. I’ll have to live vicariously through you today. Keep that in mind while you do everything for both of us.”
“I’ll take a picture of the sunset if you want and email it to you?”
He always knows what to say. “I’d like that. Gracie would like that.”
I hear the smile in his voice. “She would. I’m gonna pay Miss Grace a visit before I go to Ma’s this morning. I bought some yellow tulips last night. And I’ll stop at a gas station and buy a candy bar. The AC’s not working in my truck and I didn’t want it to melt before I get there, so I’ll wait until I get closer to pick one up.”
Damn, he’s thoughtful. “A Twix. She likes Twix candy bars.”
“Bright Side, I’ve purchased no fewer than three thousand Twix bars for Grace over the years. I know what kind of candy bar she likes.”
I smile because it’s not an exaggeration. He’s probably bought more than that. “I know.”
It’s quiet for several seconds.
“I miss her, Gus,” I whisper.
“I know, Bright Side.”
The silence returns and he lets me live in it.
And then he pulls me out. “Tell me something amazing that happened to you this week that I don’t know about yet.”
I think for a moment. Gabriel. My voice brightens. “Thursday was my first tutoring session at the elementary school in Minneapolis.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right!” His usual crazy enthusiasm returns, “How’d it go? Did you tutor a boy or girl?”
Which amps up my enthusiasm and I feel better. “It was amazing. He’s a fifth grader. His name’s Gabriel, but I call him Smiley. Gus, he has the most beautiful smile.”
“I bet he does. Is he special needs?” Gus is the best conversationalist, because he’s one of the few people I know that really listens when you talk to them. You can feel it, even over the phone.
“Down syndrome. He’s a little shy.”
Gus interrupts with a laugh. “Well, he’s found the perfect person to draw him right out of his shell. You are the cure for shyness, aren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I think I just might be. Smartass.”
He laughs. “That’s my girl.”
“Anyway, the office staff said he has behavioral issues and the after school program alluded to it, but he was an angel for me. I think so many people treat special needs kids so different from all of the other kids that sometimes it makes them act out. They’re kids, all they really want is attention and kindness, you know? That’s what every kid wants.”
“And that is why you are going to be the best teacher the world has ever seen. You’ll revolutionize the profession.” He’s always so encouraging.
“I loved being with him yesterday.”
“And I bet he felt the same way. Did he remind you of Grace? Was that hard?”
“His eyes remind me of Gracie. There’s that expectancy and innocence in them, you know. And they crinkle up when he smiles, just like Gracie. It’s good though. Good to be around him.”
“I’m glad. You deserve it.”
“How’s everything going with you, Rock God?”
“Good, it’s good. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The album drops Tuesday. But, I don’t want to think about any of that today. Today is about surfing with friends and spending time with Ma.”
“It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“Listen Bright Side, I’m just stopping for gas and to pick up Grace’s Twix bar. Will you be around late tonight? I’ll call you on my drive back to L.A. if you don’t have a hot date planned.” Maybe it’s me, but his teasing voice sounds a little sad.
“No dates. I’ll be around unless I’m spooning Clayton in his bed because Sugar’s brought home another gentleman caller to woo. I’ll just be hanging out. Give me a call.”
It’s quiet for a beat too long and then he asks, “Do you and Clayton really spoon?”
�
��Dude, you haven’t been replaced. No one spoons like you do.” I’ve spent hundreds of nights at Audrey and Gus’s house over the years and I always slept with Gus. Especially in the weeks I lived with them before my move to Minnesota. There wasn’t a night that I slept alone. Whether we slept in his room, or the guest room, or on the sofa, we always slept together. And up until the very last night it was always completely platonic, even though I was always wrapped up in him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as safe as I did in those weeks. I couldn’t sleep unless his arms were around me, and because Gus is a big, gentle hulk of a man, he was like a cocoon that sheltered me from the world. I was so thankful we had that time.
I hear the click of his lighter and that first, familiar drag of a cigarette. “Good to know.”
“You should quit.”
“Yes. I should.”
“You mean it?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope. I love you, Bright Side.”
“Love you, too, Gus.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
The thunderous bell announces my arrival to an empty Grounds. I’m sure Keller won’t be working this morning since he’s probably still comatose. But there he is, standing behind the counter with his hands clamped over his ears, his eyes shut, and his face contorted in pain.
His eyes ease open as I reach the counter and the bell fades out.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize quietly. “You look like shit, dude.” I mean, he still looks good—really good—but he’s pale and there are dark circles under his eyes. Only Keller could pull off a sexy hangover. And then I remind myself, Keller and I are just friends.
I catch him off guard and he snorts out a laugh. “I guess I deserve that.”
And with that exchange I know that everything’s good between us. Keller and I are just friends. Because this is how friends act. And it’s okay. It’s great even, because friends are life’s gifts. “I don’t know if you deserve to feel as bad as you must, but you wholeheartedly earned it.”
He shakes his head and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and moans, “I’m never drinking again.”
I nod in agreement. “Until next time?” I smile.
