It was Friday afternoon when he arrived in Galveston. I had been in close enough contact with him that I knew he would be there by dinner time.
I was nervous, and things had been slightly distant between us, but I wanted to give him a warm welcome, so I cooked a meal. I pulled out all the stops, making three dishes even though I was normally used to cooking quick and easy things by myself. I cooked homemade macaroni and cheese, some steak, which I had already sliced, and green beans.
I was sweaty from all the scrambling in the kitchen, and I decided to take a quick shower before he arrived. I left it to stay warm on the stove while I freshened up. I rushed to get it all done, but he took longer to get there than I anticipated.
I was just about to walk over to his apartment when my phone rang.
"Hello?" I said, answering the phone on the first ring.
"Hey," Trey said.
"Hey, did you make it?"
"Yeah, I'm in Galveston. But I'm stuck at the airport. Not for good. But for an hour or so. The rental had a flat, and it was all they had, so they're changing it."
"I'll pick you up," I said, instantly.
"Oh, no don't worry about it. I'll need the truck anyway. And it's already been a while since they told me it would be an hour. It's probably more like thirty minutes now. It'll go fast. I just thought I'd check in with you since I told you my flight landed at five."
"I'm glad you did," I said. "I made dinner. I was about to put it in the fridge."
"You made dinner?" I could tell he was smiling when he asked, the question. His voice got softer and it sounded like he got closer to the phone.
It was the first time in a month that I let myself respond to any flirtatiousness, and the feeling was electrifying.
"Yes, I made dinner, and I felt like a chef in here with four pots going at once. I don't know what I was thinking. I already had to take… never mind. Where are you? I want you to come over."
"I'm at the airport, on a payphone," he said.
"And thank you for cooking. I'm looking forward to eating some of whatever you made."
"Steak and mac-n-cheese."
"I can't wait."
"Do you need me to let you go since you're on a payphone?"
"No," he said. "Nobody's around."
I smiled as I carried my cordless phone across the room to sit on the couch.
"I'm relieved you're in Galveston," I said.
"Are you?"
"Why would you ask it like that?" I asked.
"Because I'm surprised. You've been all business for the last month."
"No, I haven't," I insisted. But I knew he was right, so I corrected myself. "It's only because I was scared of Mexico, a little."
"Why were you scared. You told me you weren't scared."
"I told you that," I said. "And I didn't mean to lie, but I guess I was scared. I had a whole thing built-up in my mind. I thought maybe you'd get married while you were over there, like you might come back with a new wife or something."
He laughed at that. "A new wife?" he said in a disbelieving tone that made me feel happy.
"I don't know. I thought, I was scared, since we didn't talk about things and I acted like I didn't care, I thought you might, I don't know, it sounds funny to say it now, but I thought you were going to come back married."
"Yeah, I didn't do that."
"Somebody tried to, but I told them I couldn't."
"What? Who? What are you saying? Somebody tried to marry you? Beth?"
"Yes," he said, smiling at my apparent impatience. "It was Beth. But no, she didn't quite try to marry me."
"What happened?"
"Nothing," he said. "She tried to kiss me, but I didn't let it happen.
I concentrated on containing my emotion. "Really? Did she try?"
"Do you care?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"You said you didn't before."
"Well, I was wrong for saying that. Did you do it? Did you kiss her?"
"No."
"You didn't?"
"No, I didn't. We had a whole argument. She asked why I wasn't letting it happen, and I told her I was talking to someone."
I knew that someone was me, and I was inexplicably excited. "So, nothing happened?"
"No. Nothing at all."
"Was it because of this other woman you're talking to?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Who is she?" I asked.
"You know who. You better know who."
"I know. I think I know," I said.
"If you don't know, I'm going to be really disappointed when I see you in a little while."
Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.
My heart was steadily beating.
"You're not going to believe this apartment," I said, trying to change the subject before I did something crazy like start crying from happiness. "And the stairs and everything. It's all so beautiful. I think you're going to be really happy with it."
"I want you to give me the grand tour."
"I can't wait to," I said. "Come to my apartment first, and we'll walk over there together."
"Okay, I will. I'm relieved that you want to see me," he said. "I thought maybe your dad forbid you to see me."
"Forbid me? No. Dad had nothing to do with it. I was just seeing how Mexico played out."
"It played out that I thought you barely liked me, Tara, and I still wouldn't talk to anyone else."
I smiled even though he couldn’t see me. "I'm happy you're here. You're not going to believe the room."
"Do you love it?"
"It's more than I ever dreamed. That back wall closes now when you're upstairs. There's a little switch. It's amazing. Totally hidden. It looks like a little closet. It is a closet. It's functional, and everything's so hidden. It's perfect. You're going to love it. Did that girl really try to kiss you?"
He chuckled. "Yes. It was a whole thing. She cried."
"She cried? Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wasn't sure if you cared. I was going to see you in person and get a feel."
"I care," I said. "I'm not happy that she cried, but I'm happy about what it implies."
"What, exactly, does it imply?" he asked.
"That you like me."
"I think I do," he said.
"Good," I returned. "Are you sure you don't want me to go pick you up at the airport?"
"No, thank you, I'll be there in a few minutes."
We hung up the phone, and Trey pulled up on Bank Street thirty minutes later.
I was positioned where I could see outside, so I noticed the movement of cars and I glanced out all the time. I had an extra hour to prepare for his arrival, and I still felt like I had to rush around at the last minute. I was cleaning some dust near the window when he pulled up and parked. It was a beautiful early summer day, and I had the window open.
"Hey there," I called, but I was breathless and it came out quieter than I imagined. He didn't hear me. He glanced at the window just before he went under the awning, but he didn't catch a glimpse of me.
I did some frantic, last-second straightening as I waited for him to come up the steps. I thought about standing there, in my apartment, and waiting for him, but I couldn’t make myself do it.
I opened the door and looked at the stairwell, seeing the top of the back of Trey's head through the railing as he came up the stairs. I watched him walk, feeling nervous and excited. He smiled at me when he turned and came around the corner. He was dressed nicely in a button-down shirt with jeans, and he had a suitcase and a duffel bag. His facial hair had grown a little, and I smiled at how different he seemed after a month. I was done for.
"I'm going to leave this stuff in my apartment," he said. He stopped in his doorway and set down his luggage, and I just couldn't deal with it any longer. I went over to him because I couldn't wait. I thought about that woman trying to kiss him and wondered if he would kiss me. I was drawn to him, and
I wanted to kiss him so badly. I wanted to make sure he would kiss me back.
He saw that I was coming, and he stopped what he was doing and smiled, holding his arms out so that I could walk into them. Trey welcomed me into his arms, taking me into an instant embrace. I thought we might break apart after a couple of seconds, but we didn't. We just stood there and held each other in the hallway. Twice, I almost said something, but I changed my mind. I just held him and let him hold me.
"Hello, Tara," he said eventually. It had been at least a full minute, maybe two.
I leaned back so that I could focus on his face. I smiled, and it caused him to smile back.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi."
"I was thinking about you."
His grin broadened. "Oh yeah? What were you thinking?"
"All sorts of stuff. I'm happy about Mexico. And I'm happy you're in Texas."
Just then, Charlotte and Mickey came into the downstairs apartment door. They were at the bottom of the steps where they couldn't see us, and we had plenty of time to separate and not get caught embracing. It was so frustrating that they came in right when we saw each other for the first time in a month.
"Just go," Trey whispered, looking at me with an urgent expression.
I turned and took off with no hesitation. Trey picked up his luggage, and we took off, as fast as we could, to my place, running and moving out of the way just in time for me to open the door.
I stood back and let him run through.
It was comical how close they were to seeing us.
I closed the door just in time for them to make it to the top of the stairway and look back at me. I had been watching the backs of their heads. I waved at them, as I closed the door.
They had no idea that Trey had just run into my apartment, and the close call had me laughing after I closed the door. Trey had gone into my kitchen so that he was out of view, and I instantly went in there to meet him. He had already put down his bags and I went his way, both of us laughing as I landed right next to him.
"We would have been stuck talking for twenty minutes," he said.
"I know. We did good."
"They can't see us now," he said. He smiled irresistibly and placed his hand on the back of my waist, pulling me closer. I stretched up and kissed his cheek, breaking the ice since I didn't know how else to start. I leaned over and kissed his other cheek after that, and then I kissed his mouth. He kissed me back, and our mouths met in a gentle perfect soft peck. It was the most perfect little kiss that had ever happened. I felt a zap of electricity when our mouths met.
I pulled back, smiling at Trey. He stared at me, his brown eyes searching my face. There was no telling what he would say next. I was quiet, regarding him and waiting. My hands were on his arms, and I let my fingertips roam over the ridges of muscles along his triceps.
"You are terrible at long distance relationships," he said, staring at me. "I had no clue I would get this kind of reception. I didn't even know you still liked me."
I smiled and leaned up to kiss him again. For a second time, we executed a perfect, barely-open-mouthed kiss.
"I'm sorry," I whispered afterward. "I was so scared about Mexico."
"You should have told me that, Tara. Beth Hardwick has nothing on you."
Just hearing her name caused me to experience a stab of jealousy.
"I don't know what to say other than I'm so happy you didn't do anything with her."
"I didn't. I was thinking about you."
"Thank you. I don't want you to kiss anyone else, please." I had kissed Trey twice and he had let me do it both times. He had kissed me back. He did not kiss Beth, and he did kiss me. I was the one he had chosen. I felt all melty inside, and I clung to him, burying my face in his chest and holding and hugging him for another few seconds before letting him go.
"Do you want to eat first, or go see the room?" I asked.
"I don't really feel like leaving your apartment right this second," he said. "You can catch me up on things while we eat, and then you can take me to see it in a minute."
Chapter 13
He ate, and we talked for about an hour while we sat in my kitchen.
His smile. Goodness. It was mesmerizing. His eyes squinted, and his teeth flashed in a way that left me breathless every time. I was enamored even more now than I had been a month ago.
I was glad I thought ahead. I had a whole thing planned out for when I revealed the new and improved secret room, and it was difficult for me to contain my excitement about it. Trey knew I was excited to show him the renovations, but he didn't know the extent of my surprise. I acted laidback about it, letting him eat and talking to him for a while before I even mentioned going to look at the progress in the room. I followed him to apartment 202.
He thought we would go through the new passageway together, but I stopped him before we even got close to the new trapdoor.
"You know how the handle works, and the door," I said. "I'm going to let you do it."
"Are you not going in with me?" he asked. He looked disappointed, and it made me happy.
"I am, I'm just, I'm going the other way."
"Well, I'll go the other way with you," he said.
"I'm going alone, and you're going through here," I said, staring at him, letting him know that I had something brewing.
"There's a chair in the corner, and you'll find a note."
"Are you good?" he asked, looking slightly concerned.
"Yes. It's all good. I'm just excited to show it to you. I'm doing something. I'm going in the other way. Give me a second to get down there. Wait right here for two minutes, and then go in and find the note. It's in a chair in the corner." I was retreating to the other side of the room as I spoke. We were both smiling—him at me for being nervous and in a hurry, and me because I was so excited. "I'll see you in a minute," I added.
I left his apartment and instantly ran down the staircase and out the door that led to the sidewalk. I had thought about this moment for weeks and rehearsed it in my mind so much that I knew exactly what I was going to do.
I ran into Papaw King who owned the hardware store next door, and I said 'hey Papaw' so fast that he laughed at me.
I moved swiftly, hugging corners, and slipping into the door of my new studio. Trey had gotten a coating put on the windows. It was a subtle mirror finish. You could see out from the inside but not the other way around. I had total privacy as soon as I closed the door.
I locked it behind me and took off toward the hall bathroom.
I had everything set up. I stripped down to my ballet costume. It wasn't a full costume. It was basically a fancier version of the leotards that I wear all the time. I was wearing a black, short-sleeve leotard with a detailed scoop neck. I also had on a sheer black skirt. I wore nude tights and leather slippers, and I tied my hair into a neat bun.
I was nice and tight looking, like a proper ballerina. But the black leotard was my favorite—it went with my hair.
I knew what I had to do. I had practiced this enough, and I had been in the downstairs so much in the last month that this process was quick and easy.
I changed and tied up my hair, and just like that, I was heading for the closet. I stepped inside of it, closed the door, and pulled the lever (which was now attached to a fake book). The trap door opened quietly, and I stepped out of the closet and into the secret room. I pushed a button to close the door behind me, and I stood at the foot of the steps, feeling more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life.
I had to assume that Trey was already in the secret room, waiting for me. "Are you there?" I said, calling up the steps and hoping he could hear me.
"Yes." I heard his deep voice answer me, and I thought I might melt into a pool of mushy goo right there.
"Did you read your note?" I asked.
"I did," he said. "I'm sitting where you told me to sit."
"Isn't it beautiful up there?"
"It is…" He hesitated, and a few seconds of si
lence passed before he added, "But I want you up here with me."
"I'm coming," I promised, feeling nervous and doubting myself more and more with every passing second. I gave myself a mental pep talk as I pressed the button on my boombox to start the music.
I had the volume adjusted and I strategically positioned the device where the speaker projected up the stairs. I recorded a tape for my dance. The music started softly with a slow intro that led into a three-minute piece called the Carnival of the Animals, and then it would go into beautiful, slow classical music for thirty minutes before fading away. My dance was only three minutes, but I wanted music to continue afterward.
I was shaken, but I trusted myself, knowing that at one point I thought this was all a good idea. I heard the music begin, and I started climbing the steps. I was in character immediately. I was a fairy, trapped in a jar. The song began, and I did my dance. It was a ballet that was made for Trey. I told a whole story through movement.
I could see Trey out of the corner of my eye as I danced. I choreographed the piece for the room, tailoring it for the person who would be sitting in the chair. I could see him watching me, but I couldn't let myself look straight at him because if I did, I might break character. I made a conscious choice to devote myself to the dance. I was aware of Trey sitting there, but I didn't let myself look at him or be affected by him.
I was so full of adrenaline that I performed the whole thing feeling a bit like I was outside of my own body. In the story, I spent the majority of the time climbing and flying and twisting and turning, trying my best to get out of the room before finally coming to the realization that I was staying there, at which time I collapsed blissfully onto the floor.
The music got quieter and I stayed still, feeling winded and spent and doing my best to regulate my breathing. I stayed there for several long heartbeats, on my back, staring at the ceiling while the music continued to play. I was relieved and tired, and the music and feelings seemed to swirl all around me. I saw it out of my periphery when Trey got out of the chair and came over to me. He sat down beside me leaning over me curiously.
"Tara?" he said, whispering my name.
Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance (Bank Street Stories Book 4) Page 9
