Erasing Faith

by Julie Johnson

  “What about tomorrow night?”

  She glanced up sharply, a slight smirk twisting her lips. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” I shrugged, shoving my free hand into the pocket of my pants. “Just wondering what your plans are.”

  “Are you trying to ask me out on another date?”

  “Absolutely not.” I shook my head in swift denial.

  “Oh, right,” she murmured, grinning wryly at me. “Because you don’t ask girls on dates — you just ambush them with surprise dresses and magical evenings at five-star restaurants.”

  “Essentially.”

  “Well, then, if you won’t man up, I’ll just have to be the one wearing the pants in this relationship,” she said decidedly.

  I raised my eyebrows, amused.

  “Wes Adams, will you go out on a date with me tomorrow night?” Her tone was flippant, but her eyes revealed deep underlying insecurity that I might reject her. I wanted to erase that look more than I’d ever wanted anything in this life.

  “Well, Faith Morrissey, that depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether you’re going to steal my dinner again,” I said in a serious voice. “I mean, I’m trying to watch my girlish figure. I can’t go around eating steaks every night just because you’re too stubborn to change your order.”

  Her mouth dropped open in indignation. “I did not steal your dinner! You forced it on me!”

  “Red.”

  “The idea that I would steal your dinner is just, well…”

  “Red.”

  “It’s just wrong, Wes! It’s wro—”

  “Faith.” I stepped forward into her space and watched as the words died on her tongue.

  “Yes?” she squeaked, her face mere inches from mine. Her gaze darted from my eyes to my mouth and back again.

  I cracked an involuntary grin. She was so fucking cute. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said simply. “Seven o’clock.”

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  Before she could move, I leaned in and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. She seemed to melt a little at the contact, her hands dropping limply to her sides and the tension uncoiling from her shoulders. I transferred the bike into her pliant hands, slid the messenger bag off my shoulder, and looped it over the nearest handlebar.

  “Goodnight, Red.”

  “Goodnight,” she whispered, blushing furiously as she watched me walk away. I got about ten steps from her stoop before her voice called out again. “Hey, Wes!”

  I couldn’t help but smile as I turned back to face her. “What is it, Red?”

  She smiled too, and her whole face lit up. “Thanks for dinner. It was the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

  Tossing a wink in her direction, I turned and disappeared into the night, determined not to think about her eyes or her mouth or any other distracting parts of her anatomy. I walked away and resolutely ignored the way her words, her smile, her laugh, her very presence seemed to fill those empty parts of me with something pure.

  Something better.

  Chapter Nineteen: FAITH

  CAST AWAY

  I closed the door behind me, leaned my bike against the living room wall, and collapsed onto the sofa with a deep, dreamy sigh. I’d been seated about five seconds when the door to Margot’s bedroom flew open and she was there next to me, launching herself onto the couch with an expectant look on her face.

  “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

  I giggled.

  “I’m serious! Tell me. I want details. How was it?”

  I looked up at the slow-paddling ceiling fan as a huge grin split my face in two. “Amazing.”

  Margot squealed and threw her arms around me. “Yay! Ohmigod, I’m so relieved you had a good time. Then again, how could you not with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ridiculously Handsome at your side? He is delectable. Seriously. When I met him for coffee, it was hard to keep my eyes off him — and there was a chocolate croissant on my plate. Fierce competition.”

  “How did he even know we were roommates?”

  “He was standing on the sidewalk outside our apartment the other day, probably waiting for you to come home. He must’ve recognized me from the speed-dating night,” Margot explained, her eyelashes fluttering. “Or, maybe from the fact that when I saw him my jaw dropped, I stopped in my tracks, and screamed Ohmigod, Wes! It’s you!’”

  I snorted. “Oh, great. Very subtle, Margot.”

  “So, where did he take you?”

  “Elvarázsolt.”

  “Ohmigod! That place is like impossible to get reservations at. And it’s ridiculously pricey.” Margot’s eyes were wide with appreciation. “That man is not fucking around. He must really want to bang you.”

  “Margot!”

  She giggled. “Oh, fine. He must really like you. Totally platonically, I’m sure. Like a doting older brother or a completely non-creepy uncle. That’s why he chose that dress.” She eyed my neck and hemlines.

  I blushed for the millionth time tonight.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “On the forehead, like a good brother.” I smirked.

  Margot sighed. “Damn. Well, when are you seeing him again?”

  “Tomorrow night. He’s picking me up at seven.”

  “What?!” she exclaimed. “But that gives us basically no time to prepare!”

  I stared at her quizzically. “Prepare for what?”

  “The fact that you’re even asking me that question is exactly the reason we need more than—” She glanced at the clock. “Twenty-one hours to prepare you.”

  “I have work and class all day tomorrow,” I pointed out.

  Margot threw her hands in the air, disgusted. “Well, that’s just perfect!”

  Against my will, a flurry of incredulous giggles escaped.

  “I’m happy one of us is taking your dating life seriously,” she muttered.

  “You do realize how backwards the logic behind that statement is, right?”

  She glared at me. “Until I find a boyfriend, I will be living vicariously through you. Channeling my sexually-frustrated powers for good, so to speak. Deal with it.”

  I sighed deeply and tried to ready myself for whatever Margot had up her sleeve. No doubt she was about to spend the next twenty-odd hours imparting all manner of dating tips and tricks on me, while also coordinating the perfect outfit and coaching me on the dos and don’ts of starting a new relationship. As though I’d never been on a first — well, technically, second — date before.

  I closed my eyes and resigned myself to the fact that there was no possible way I’d get my history homework done before bed tonight. Hell, I might not even make it to class tomorrow, if Margot was feeling determined. In a match between Professor Varga and my tenacious roommate, there was no doubt about who’d win. Where Margot was concerned, I knew all too well that any resistance was futile.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you brought flashcards to dinner.”

  “I was worried you might bore me to death,” I teased, trying to cover my deep mortification. I was going to kill Margot. She’d been the one with the genius suggestion that I bring discussion points with me on my date. In fact, it hadn’t been so much a suggestion as a demand, considering I’d had zero choice in the matter. After I’d refused to bring them along, she’d evidently thought it was a great idea to shove them in my purse when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t even notice them — at least, not until they came spilling out during dinner, when I clumsily knocked my clutch off the side of the table. Of course, Wes had seen them and immediately demanded an explanation.

  He arched one dark eyebrow.

  I took a sip of my wine. “Oh, relax. They’re only conversation starters. It’s supposed to be a fun, get-to-know-you thing. Or, you know…” I shrugged casually. “A fail-safe if things get dull and we run out of things to talk about.”

  “You really doubted my ability to make basic conversation for the course of a single meal?”


  I pressed my lips together to keep in a giggle. “Do you want the honest answer or the fake, we’re-on-a-first-date-so-I’ll-compliment-you-even-if-you-have-lettuce-in-your-teeth answer?”

  Wes stared at me with an indecipherable look on his face. “You are so weird.”

  “Yes, we’ve covered this.” I heaved another sigh. “And?”

  His crooked smile appeared. “Just give me the cards.”

  “No! You can’t have the cards. You made fun of the cards.”

  Deftly, in a move so fast I could barely track it, he reached across the table and plucked the stack from my grip.

  “I don’t like you,” I muttered.

  “Yes, we’ve covered this,” he mocked. “And?”

  I shook my head in vexation.

  He’d picked me up an hour ago. I’d been sitting in my bedroom, listening to Margot’s endless dating advice, when the loud, unmistakable rumbling of a motorcycle pulled up outside our apartment. We’d both raced to the window and jockeyed for the best view. I think our mouths had dropped open in unison as we’d watched Wes, clad in a dark gray, distressed leather jacket, dismount from the bike and saunter up to the front door like he owned the place.

  “So hot,” Margot had breathed.

  I’d gulped, unable to form words.

  That sensation of being totally in over my head had only increased as the evening waned on. I’d felt my mind short circuit as we rode Wes’ motorcycle through the city, my arms wrapped tight around his torso. My thoughts had scattered entirely when we’d pulled up at a tiny outdoor café on the banks of the Danube, with a view so spectacular it seemed the stuff of romantic legends. My brain had melted into a puddle of worthless goo when Wes had pulled out my seat like a true gentleman, ordered a bottle of crisp white wine, and turned those dark chocolate eyes on me, where they’d remained riveted ever since.

  Let’s just say, by the time the salad course arrived, I was more than thankful for Margot’s once-ridiculed flash cards, as I wasn’t entirely confident I could string original thoughts together.

  In a voice choked with barely-contained laughter, Wes read off the first card. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where it be?” He flipped to the next card. “If you could be any animal for a day, which one would you choose?” He tried to read a third, but he was laughing too hard.

  Jutting out my bottom lip in a pout, I muttered under my breath. “I never said they were good conversation starters.”

  “Did you make these up?” he asked disbelievingly, scanning through the stack with wide, amused eyes.

  “Margotprintedthemofftheinternetforme,” I mumbled quickly, averting my eyes.

  He snorted so hard wine came out his nose.

  “Nice,” I commented, handing him a cloth napkin. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, you know that?”

  “Shh, I’m starting for real now. Question number one.” He cleared his throat and adopted a faux-serious tone. “If you were trapped on a desert island with no hope of rescue, what single item would you bring?”

  “Easy.” I blew a puff of air through my lips. “Ice cream.”

  Wes’ incredulous chortle was unmistakable. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “That’s the stupidest answer I’ve ever heard.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, offended. “Name a better one.”

  “Fine. How about flares, fire, water, food, medical supplies…” His eyes narrowed. “Need I go on?”

  I shrugged and smiled.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked. “You know I’m right.”

  “Because the card says there’s no hope of rescue,” I pointed out.

  “Okay, valid, but you could hypothetically survive on the island forever.”

  “Yes, but honestly, what kind of life would that be? Living alone, totally isolated?” I shook my head. “I saw that movie Cast Away. The man had a borderline-obsessive relationship with a volleyball.”

  “Oh, as if you didn’t tear up when Wilson floated away,” Wes muttered.

  I burst into laughter, but eventually gathered my thoughts enough to finish my argument. “All alone, with no one to talk to, to share your life with? No one to love? That’s not a life. It’s an existence, maybe, but not a life. So I’ll happily take my ice cream and go to my end with the knowledge that, if all things fail, Rocky Road is always there when times get tough.”

  When I looked up from my explanation, a smile lingering on my lips in anticipation of his reaction, I was stunned to see that Wes wasn’t enjoying my joke. His face was solemn, his expression more guarded than I’d ever seen it.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, reaching across the table for his hand. My touch seemed to rouse him, and his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

  “Sorry. Just spaced out for a second. We’re all good.” He swallowed roughly. “Rocky Road, huh? I’d have pegged you for more of a Cookie Dough girl.”

  “I have a firm anti-discrimination policy when it comes to delicious ice cream flavors.”

  “Ah, I see.” His grin was back, but his eyes were still distant.

  “You do that a lot, you know.”

  His eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Sometimes, I say something and you go somewhere — you disappear inside your head.” My voice was soft. I had to tread carefully, here — I didn’t want him to throw up that wall again, like he had the night we’d walked the Chain Bridge. “It’s not a bad thing, Wes. I just wish you’d take me with you when you go.”

  He stared at me for a long, suspended moment without saying a word.

  I wished I could read him better, but he was a master at keeping his feelings in check. I couldn’t blame him — I remembered every word of the story he’d told me. The way his face had looked, when he’d talked about sleeping on the floor of a dirty warehouse as a little boy. The carefully bland tenor of his voice when he’d told me he didn’t have any family.

  My heart ached for the child he’d been, for the man he was today. I now understood why he was so closely guarded when it came to revealing details about himself or his life. Pressuring him to open up would only succeed in driving him away. If I pushed too hard, too fast, he wouldn’t let me in — he’d just shut me out again.

  But I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  No matter how many times I tried to back off, there was an inexplicable part of me that was intent on getting inside Wes Adams’ head, to see what secrets he’d buried there. Perhaps it was because while in many ways we were opposites — he was totally self-contained; I was a clumsy, quirky, open book — there was part of me that recognized his loneliness as the mirror of my own. Deep down, in spite my noisy childhood, I understood what it was like to live a life of solitude. To be alone, even in the company of others.

  For twenty years, I’d resented it — wishing I could change my circumstances, change myself. But now, as I looked at the lonely man sitting across the table from me, I was thankful for the inner solitude that had always plagued me.

  Maybe I was only alone for so long because, all my life, I’d been waiting for him.

  Wes and me… we were alone, together.

  Two lost souls, found in one another.

  Though he might not realize it yet, I’d known it the first time I’d looked into his eyes. But I wouldn’t force it; I’d wait until he was ready. Until he saw it, too.

  Worried I’d pushed too far, I tried to turn my words into a joke, though I’d never been so serious in my life. “‘Cause, you know, I’d like to take a peek inside that thick skull of yours.” I forced a laugh. “Just to make sure there’s actually a brain rolling around in there, and all.”

  A small smile appeared on Wes’ lips, but he didn’t say anything.

  So, I changed the subject. I spent the rest of dinner making him laugh at stories about Margot’s misadventures in love and telling him of my own less-than-stellar track record when it came to navigating the city on my bike — GPS be damned. For
two straight hours, we were just a normal couple on a first — second — date, making small talk and discussing topics with little depth.

  It was lovely. Safe and simple and lovely.

  But deep down, I was biding my time. Waiting for the day that Wes would let me in.

  Chapter Twenty: WESTON

  EITHER WAY

  She fell asleep mid-sentence.

  Who does that? No one.

  No one except her, apparently.

  It was just another line on the long list of things that set Faith Morrissey apart. One minute, she’d been telling me about the time her childhood dog, Otto, chased the mailman up a tree in her front yard, and the next, she was passed out cold. I’d had to make a dive for her wine glass, before it slipped from her hand and splintered against the hardwood floor.

  I stared down at her on the couch, a smile twisting my lips. Feet tucked up beneath her, she was curled into the cushions like a nesting baby bird. I couldn’t help but smirk when I saw the inspirational message embroidered across the pillow beneath her head.

  Be the change you want to see in the world.

  Somehow, I was unsurprised to find that in her apartment.

  We’d ridden my bike back here after dinner. With a furious blush staining her cheeks, she’d invited me inside for another glass of wine. I think her intentions were to seduce me.

  She’d fallen asleep, instead.

  Her hair was mussed against the fabric, half-fallen out of its fastenings. A stray red-brown lock fell across her cheekbone. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. She was snoring lightly, soft breaths slipping through parted lips with each exhale. She’d probably be completely mortified, if she ever found out I’d witnessed her in this state.

  She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  I moved silently through the condo, taking in the space with critically trained eyes. It was spacious, for student housing. Two separate bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a full-sized kitchen. Street level, which made me a bit uneasy. I liked to be up high — better vantage points. Not that street level didn’t also have its merits, if you needed to make a quick exit. Any window could be an escape hatch.