by Lori L. Otto
Her cheeks blush. “They haven’t figured out you’re not set on any one type of woman?” she asks after clearing her throat. She swallows hard after getting the question out as her eyes challenge me.
“Oh, but I am,” I tell her with a sly smile.
“Right,” she whispers skeptically as she takes a few steps back. “Is there somewhere I can freshen up?”
“Yeah, this way. I need to wash up, too.” She swings her purse over her shoulder and follows me to the hallway that branches into two separate restrooms.
“Thanks.”
Once in the men’s room, I stare at myself in the mirror. Holy shit, she’s actually here.
I couldn’t remove the smile from my face if I tried. No matter what happens tonight, I know that she’s not lost to me forever. Unless she came with some sort of news. She said she wanted to be alone to talk to me. What if she’s seeing someone? What if that’s her news? My heart sinks a little at the thought, but even still... so what if she is seeing someone? Someone that deserves her, someone that’s good to her and for her? She’s still my best friend. That won’t change regardless. I just want her in my life.
As long as she’s not doing to me what I tried to do to her, I’ll be fine. I can’t believe I hurt her like that.
I don’t deserve her.
But I’d be good to her. Of that, I’m sure.
I scrub my arms and hands thoroughly, getting off all the paint. I grab the jeans and shirt I had brought with me to change into for dinner, discarding my paint-soiled clothes in my duffel bag. I splash some water on my face and run my fingers through my hair, the smile still evident in my eyes.
I realize she’s turned up the music once I make it back into the main room. She hasn’t changed my playlist, and I wonder if she saw what it was called when she adjusted the volume. For Emi. Simple and to the point, containing all the songs that remind me of her. There are hundreds that I’ve collected over the years. I think I could listen to the music in that list for two and a half days without hearing a song repeated.
“I’m sorry about your dress,” I apologize to her, announcing my presence. Even from across the room, I can see the paint splotches that stand out against the black fabric.
“Are you kidding?” she asks. “It’s a Nate Wilson original now. Think of the resale value.”
I roll my eyes and walk toward her. “Is it dried in already?”
“Pretty much,” she admits, touching a blue splotch and shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t really care. You look nice.”
“I just look clean,” I tell her. “You, though. You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long are you here?”
“Through Monday, if you’ll have me.” I close my eyes for the briefest of moments, indulging in the vision of one of my fantasies of her. Thankfully, she’s gone back to looking at the painting, possibly shielding herself from an unwelcome response from me. She won’t get it.
“Of course. I can take the weekend off. I’m way ahead of schedule here.”
“Cool.” One dimple stands out more than the other with her sexy smile. “Hey, wasn’t this one of our songs in that dance class... god, how many years ago was that?”
“Eight?” I ask. “And yes.” She had convinced me to take a dancing class with her. She thought it would be a good way for us to meet people. I met an interesting woman... but as far as the men were concerned, if they weren’t there with their wives, they weren’t there to pick up women.
“Care to give it a whirl?” she asks, her steps sultry as she walks toward me.
“I don’t know if I still can,” I tell her, pulling her closer and trying to remember the steps we had learned in class. We both make more than our share of mistakes, but it’s fun and we’re both laughing and arguing about who’s right and who’s wrong. I twirl her at the end of the song, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize the song that follows on the playlist. It’s about two long-time friends becoming lovers for an evening. She’s still laughing and starts dancing with me again as the singing begins. My palms become sticky, my nerves shot, and I can no longer look her in the eyes, afraid she’ll read every impure thought that’s going through my mind. She doesn’t seem to be listening to the lyrics... yet. My head tucked next to hers, I mouth some of the lyrics with a smile on my face.
By the time the last words of the first verse are being sung, we are in each others arms, moving together slowly. Her head is on my chest, no doubt listening to the rapid beating of my heart and my uneven breaths. Visions of her, of me, alone, touching... she will soon know exactly how I feel if she continues to cling to me this way.
“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Albert’s voice calls to us from the door. Emi pulls away quickly, startled.
“Albert and Shannon,” I announce on my way to turn the music down. “This is my friend, Emi. She’s in for the weekend from New York.”
Albert walks to her confidently, Shannon fast on his heels. He picks up her hand and kisses the back of it. “He’s never told us about an Emi from New York,” he says to her as he looks her up and down. I’d warn him to back off if he wasn’t my current boss.
“To be fair,” Shannon says, “he’s never told us about anyone, Al.” She and Emi shake hands briefly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you.”
“Did Nate invite you to stay for dinner? We’re trying to finalize the menu tonight. We could use another opinion,” Albert asks.
“Yes, as long as I’m not intruding–”
“What’s your poison?” he cuts her off.
“Um... do you have any pinot noir?”
“Of course,” he nearly laughs, exiting the room to go downstairs to the cellar.
“So, Emi,” Shannon begins. “How do you know our Nate?”
“Your Nate, huh?” she laughs. “We met in high school. We kind of swore off love together, and we’ve been friends ever since.” I cringe inwardly, wishing there was a different ending to our story. I smile at her, though, thinking wistfully back to the last couple of months when I hadn’t been such a good friend to her. At this, I’m sure she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “For the most part,” she adds with a wink to me.
“Well, it’s nice to see a little of Nate’s secret life. And it doesn’t seem as dark and scary as Albert and I had pictured it to be.”
“You don’t really know her,” I tell Shannon, nodding to Em. “Very dark. Very scary.”
Emi’s eyes glint at me playfully. “I’ll show you dark and scary, Nate,” she warns.
“No, I’ve seen it,” I confirm seriously as I nod toward the artwork hanging on the wall. Her attention drifts to the painting, then back to me quickly, her expression sad in recognition. My smile earnest, I mouth an apology to her while Shannon inspects the mural closer.
“Me, too,” her lips form the words in silence. I walk over to her and put my arm around her shoulders.
“You owe me no apologies,” I inform her quietly. I tuck an errant curl behind her ear and pull her closer, listening to Shannon’s assessment of the nearly-finished piece.
“Try this, Emi,” Albert says as he hands her a glass of wine and me a tumbler with sparkling water.
“Thanks. It’s very nice,” she tells him after a sip.
“A woman after my own heart,” he announces as he touches the small of her back, guiding her to the table. “They’re about to start serving.” Albert pulls a chair out for Emi, then takes the seat next to her. I sit down in the chair across from her, watching my client out of the corner of my eye. I start to wonder if maybe I should have introduced her as someone other than my friend. Hey, Albert, this is the woman I’ve been secretly in love with for the past twelve and a half years. Keep your wandering eyes off of her. He can have any woman he wants, except her.
My attention shifts to Emi after a few minutes, hoping she’s not falling for his charming demeanor. She’s a good judge of character. Surely she can see through him. This thought settles my nerves and I smile at he
r across the table as a plate full of small appetizers is set in front of us. The chef brings out a bottle of champagne and pours each of us a glass.
“To Albert,” I propose. “And to your first venture on the west coast.”
“To Nate,” Shannon add, “this piece has surpassed our expectations. I can’t wait to see the next one.”
We each taste the sparkling wine and start eating the samples that are constantly being delivered to the table.
The night progresses pleasantly. The food is superb and the conversation flows easily between us all. Emi, at first seeming a little distant, has had a few more glasses of wine and is more talkative than usual. She’s so cute, so funny, I find myself just staring at her in adoration far too many times this evening. To distract myself, I decide to finish the glass of champagne, and I eventually start on another.
Toward the end of the evening, Emi’s hand casually brushes against mine on the table, and she begins to lightly stroke my fingers with her thumb. Playfully, I capture her thumb in my hand and hold it, my eyes looking at her questioningly. There’s no denying the sexual tension between us. I have to remind myself that she’s probably had a little too much to drink, and that I may be reading too much into her actions.
“Were you going to stay a little longer?” Albert asks, putting on his jacket and helping Shannon with hers.
“Yeah, I’ve got a little more to finish up here.”
“Can we give Emi a ride to her hotel?”
“Oh, uh...” I look across the table at her. “Yeah, where are you staying?”
“I don’t...” She shrugs her shoulders at me.
“The suite I’m in has two rooms. You’re welcome to stay in the extra room.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course!”
“Did you want to go there now, or do you want to go with me? I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I’ll stay here,” she tells Albert. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
“So maybe we’ll see you again this weekend?” he asks Emi, but I answer for her.
“Maybe so,” I tell him, unsure what our plans might be.
“Well, Alan and his team should be out of here in a few minutes. You’ll lock up behind them?”
“Sure. Have a good night. Thanks for dinner.”
“Anytime. It was nice to meet you, Emi. I hope we see you again.”
“Thanks, you too,” she says as she stands up to shake his hand. He pulls her into a hug instead and I watch as his hand wanders a little too far past her waistline. When I look up at his face, he’s gauging my reaction cautiously. Sensing my non-verbal disapproval, he nods in understanding and backs away from her. Shannon links her arm into his and leads him out of the restaurant.
“What can I help you with?” Emi asks.
“Just– come sit down with me,” I suggest as I pick up two of the dining room chairs and set them up in front of the painting. “Tell me what you think it needs.”
“It’s not finished?” She sits down in the chair next to me and puts her hand on my knee.
“I don’t think so. Something over there needs to happen.” I motion to the top right corner of the mural. “It’s missing something.”
“Well, I don’t get your process,” she admits. “You’re the fine artist. Not me.”
“Bullshit,” I joke with her. “I know you can see a gaping hole in that, graphically.”
“Maybe a little. I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Hey, I expect you, of all people, to be honest with me.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” she says with a sideways glance to me. “Maybe some red,” she suggests. “Deep red.”
“Really?” I look at the painting, considering her suggestion. Red is heat, anger, passion... love. “I could see that. I’ll let that simmer for a few days.” We’ll see how the weekend goes.
The chefs wave at us on their way out, and finally, we’re alone. I lock the door behind them and return to my seat next to Emi.
“How have you been?” I ask her, my elbows on my knees as I lean into her.
“Okay,” she answers honestly, her posture now reflecting my own. “Just trying to stay busy with work.”
“How’s Chris?”
“Great,” she says, relaxed. “Anna and I have discovered that we have a lot in common. She’s great. I think he’s going to propose on New Year’s. He’s planning a big party.”
“Wow, that quick, huh?”
“He’s very much in love. Sickeningly so,” she laughs. “Not really. I’m happy for him.”
“Me, too.” Emi’s toes tap, breaking up the silence. “Is he pissed at me?”
She smiles. “You hurt me, what do you think?”
“Emi, I’m so sorry. I was stupid.”
“Maybe a little,” she says. “I don’t blame you. You were just trying to make things work with her.”
“I was focused on saving the wrong relationship.”
“Yeah, why did you do that?”
I swallow hard before telling her. “I was hurt, too. I laid it all out there for you, and you pretty much laughed at me.”
“I’m sorr–”
“I meant it when I said you didn’t owe me an apology. You had every right to react that way. You can’t help how you feel. I can’t change that.”
“What happened with you and her?”
“Let’s just say I realized the error of my ways at a very bad time,” I hint to her.
“So it’s over? For good? It’s not just a long-distance-forced-separation kind of thing?”
“No, it’s over.”
“And you really haven’t seen anyone here in LA?”
“No, I’ve been way too busy. What about you? Been on any dates recently? Anyone I need to belittle, or fight?”
“He would have killed you in one punch if you had started anything with him,” she laughs.
“If I remember correctly, you said you didn’t care if he did.”
“I was mad. And unreasonable. And for that, I am sorry.”
I nod, waiting. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh!” she says, surprised. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” she starts slowly. “The guy I was interested in moved to California. That made things a little difficult.”
She stares at me as I search for words, try to react to what she’s just said.
“Well, knowing my history with bad timing, I’ll just assume you’ve met someone else who moved down here.”
“Stop it,” she says with a soft giggle. “I haven’t met anyone else.”
I shift in my chair a little, uncomfortable and suddenly anxious. “What are you saying, Emi?”
“I’m saying I want to try this.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, if you still have feelings for me.”
“If? If I still have feelings?” I laugh. “I don’t think my feelings were ever the ones in question. They don’t need to be now. I still have feelings for you.”
“Then... well?”
“Well, what? How do you feel? About me?”
“I can’t stand not having you in my life.”
I nod slowly before dipping my head into my hands, running my fingers through my hair. “This isn’t the only way, Emi. To have me in your life, I mean. I’m willing to just be friends. Whatever it takes.” My eyes meet hers again as I wait for her reaction.
“I know it’s not the only way. I definitely feel something more for you than I’ve been willing to admit. And I think this could work.”
“Why now?”
“Nate, I will not survive through another one of your jealous girlfriends or pregnancy scares. I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but I can’t be that girl anymore. I don’t want to be the girl in the periphery. I want to be the one you always see.”
“You are. I’ve never lost sight of you, Emi. You’re it. You’
re all I’ve ever seen. The rest were distractions, I swear. Since the day I met you.”
“I know,” she admits. “I wish I could have figured this out much sooner. I’ve messed up so much—”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I owe you this chance.”
“No, you don’t owe me anything. I don’t want to pressure you into anything, Em.”
“You’re not. I want this. I do.” She takes my hand in hers and begins to drag her finger over my palm. “If you do.” My body shivers at her delicate touch. I close my hand around hers.
“Let me ask you something.”
“Anything,” she says. “Ask me–”
Without warning, I press my lips to hers. I pull my hands away, moving both of them up to cradle her face so I can deepen the kiss. To my delight, she inches closer to me and puts her hands in my hair, finally settling her thumbs just below my earlobes. This is the kiss I’ve been waiting for. Not the ones I’ve taken from her in the past. This one, she willingly gives me, and it’s as amazing as I’ve always wanted it to be.
“How do you feel?” I ask once I pull away. Her eyes are still closed, her lips curled up in a perfect smile. She sighs contentedly before slowly opening her eyes, her lashes fluttering quickly.
“I kiss you,” she laughs, referring to her text from earlier this morning.
“Yes, you do kiss me,” I smile at her silliness, trying to catch my breath. “Did you feel anything?”
“My god, Nate, yes. It feels... right,” she tells me, moving in for another. “So right,” she mumbles with her lips still touching mine. “Will you give me a chance?” she asks, her eyes pleading with mine when she pulls back once again.
“I will,” I vow.
“Because you still have feelings for me, right? And not because you’re lonely?” She strokes my hair, and I can’t help but lean into her soft caress. I can tell her question is sincere, her insecurity somewhat expected, but she has no idea how much I want her.
“Because you are the only girl for me, Emi. I’ll give you a thousand chances. I’m going to make this work. God, just,” I stand up and pull her into a tight hug, “thank you for giving me a chance.”
