He’s taking me for brunch today and then I won’t see him again. Which she knew, of course, but maybe I needed to prove to her that I wasn’t that totally hung up on him. Or maybe I was trying to convince myself.
I love brunch. But that’s a long time away. What are you doing up so early?
I yawned as I typed back. You know me—up early.
This is really early. You’re not in the laundry today?
No. Just can’t sleep.
She sent back a frownie face and then, I’d better go. We’re off to see Dad.
I signed off and rolled over to stare at the wall which was slightly more interesting than the ceiling, thanks to my few posters. I traced my fingers along the tattooed arm of the base player from Prisoners of Conscience: my favorite band. Not that I listened to a lot of music, but when I did, it was these guys. They were really vocal about their causes and did a lot of festivals and concerts to promote human rights and Amnesty International. They sang about things that were important to me, plus their music was really good. Sort of industrial punk, but not the kind of screamy stuff that made my head hurt. Throw those good-looking guys with tattoos in there and voila, Emmie Somerville is a lifetime fan.
As I stared at the poster, inevitably I thought about Danny’s tattoos—not the one on his face, but those on his arms—wishing I’d had a chance to see what they were. I wanted to know their significance and what they meant to him. Were they because of what had happened? Did he have them before or had he gotten them since? What was important enough to him that he’d tattoo it on himself? I realized as I began to drift off, that I wanted to know that more than I wanted to know the details of his crimes.
Brunch
Brunch was nice, even with the elephant in the room. The elephant being Rob going to London for the holiday and where did that leave us. But neither of us talked about it as we ate and chatted about non-important things. I gave him the printed certificate for his goat and two chickens and he chuckled, saying he was glad he wouldn’t have to be the one to actually look after them. Then his eyes softened and he thanked me sincerely for the gift and told me I’d have to wait until Christmas day for his, which made my heart flutter, because I hadn’t actually expected anything from him.
We laughed about more of his failed handyman projects around Rosewood and he even helped me figure out part of my e-commerce site and gave me a few SEO tips. It became obvious as we talked about it that he really was a computer nerd and I kind of felt bad that we hadn’t really explored this thing we had in common before now, but I guess most of our time together had been spent either making out or figuring out how to get to making out.
But now that we were in public and making out wasn’t really an option, it was nice to just talk.
Our time together seemed to fly by, but he did have a plane to catch, so as we realized what time it was, we hurried to pay the bill (well, he paid after some heated discussion about it and how his job wasn’t even a paid position) and left the restaurant so he could drive me back to Rosewood before he took off for the airport.
The short drive back to campus was a bit awkward as the elephant loomed over us. Finally, unable to stand it, I blurted out, “I’m really going to miss you, Rob.”
He glanced over briefly and then returned his eyes to the road, but not before I saw a weird expression on his face. “Me too, Em. I...” he trailed off and then ran his left hand through his hair, keeping his right on the wheel.
“Your sister says I shouldn’t get involved with you. But, I can’t help it. I really like you.”
He swallowed, his eyes still on the road. “She’s right, you know,” he said. “But I like you, too. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
“Both?” I said with a humorless laugh that he echoed with one of his own.
“Exactly.”
He pulled up on the circular drive in front of the main building and put the car in park before turning it off. He exhaled before he looked at me, his chocolate eyes intent on mine. “God, I wish things were different. You have no idea how much.”
I bit my lip, not sure what to say to that. His eyes drifted down to my mouth.
“One for the road?” I asked, knowing this one was going to have to last me a long time.
He nodded, but before he leaned in, he stared into my eyes for a long time. Long enough to make me a little uncomfortable. “What?” I whispered.
“Nothing. Just that I like you a lot, Emmie. No matter what happens, remember that, okay?”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but before I could give it too much thought, he was kissing me.
~ ♥ ~
“Aw crap,” Rob said against my lips as he leaned back.
“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I said. God, he was gorgeous with his swollen lips and hair that had just been messed by my fingers.
Focus, Emmie, focus.
“I forgot to turn in my security pass.”
“Can’t you drop it at the gate on your way out?”
He shook his head. “No, it should go to the office.” He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “And Mike’s closing up in a few minutes. Stay here, I’ll just run in and come right back.”
I pressed the button on my seat belt. “I’ll walk in with you.”
“No, wait here. I’m not done talking to you yet. Okay? Just give me five minutes, I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and smiled at him as he got out of the car and jogged up the steps to the main entrance, watching him go and checking out his assets from the rear. Once he was out of sight, I pulled out my phone, but there were no messages.
I texted Brooklyn. Just had brunch with Rob and gave him his goat and two chickens. Among other things, I didn’t say.
Smiling, I hit send as Rob’s phone sounded in the console. I glanced down as the screen lit up.
To see my name on it right above the message I’d just sent to his sister.
I stared at it for a second before I looked at my phone, thinking I’d opened up the wrong window, but no, I double-checked and it was Brooklyn’s number.
I picked up his phone, but it was locked, the screen having returned to black; the only sign that he’d received anything was the flashing light on top.
What the hell?
As I tried to figure it out, my heart began to race because I was remembering all the texts I’d sent her that I now realized he must have seen. The ones where I admitted falling for him. Hard.
“Oh my God.” I scrolled frantically through all the messages I’d sent her and all her responses. Had he rigged it so he got copies of all my texts to his sister? If so, he knew how I felt about him. He knew everything.
As I went through my phone and deleted everything, every text I’d sent to Brooklyn, I knew it was too late. He’d seen it all.
Then he was back, opening the door and sitting down like nothing had happened. Like my world had not just been thrown upside down. My face was hot and I felt dizzy, probably because I was having some sort of stress-induced stroke.
“Emmie?” he said, his smile gone, brow now furrowed in concern.
“How long have you been reading my texts to Brooklyn?”
I wanted it not to be true, I wanted him to have some sort of explanation that our phones were too close together and there was some sort of weird signal or something, but when he glanced down at his phone and then back up to me without saying anything, I knew it was true.
“I...” he stalled out.
Then something else dawned on me. “Wait. Have I even been talking to her?”
His eyes widened slightly, answering my question.
“Oh my God, you’ve been pretending to be her, haven’t you?” My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. “You...this whole time...it was you! You sick, fu...”
“Emmie,” he interrupted, reaching for me.
“No!” I shrieked, yanking myself away from him, pulling the handle to open the door. He leaned forward, but in my e
ffort to try to get away from him, I fell ass-first out of the car and onto the pavement.
“Emmie! Wait,” he said, getting out of his side and coming around the car. I scrambled to get up and away from him, but I only got as far as the third step before his big hand circled my wrist. “Wait. Please.”
I couldn’t look at him. I turned my head slightly, but didn’t face him when I asked, “Was it you?”
“Yes, but...”
“The whole time?”
“Yes, but Emmie...”
Finally I turned and looked him right in the eye, causing him to snap his mouth shut. I’d never been violent and I’d never felt the need to hit another person, but it took everything in me not to slap him right then. My entire body vibrated with hurt and rage, but somehow I managed to simply channel it all into one word: “Why?”
“It’s complic...” he broke off when I began to shake, the anger reaching a boiling point inside me. “Emmie, I can’t...”
“Where is she? Is Brooklyn in on this? You both must be laughing your asses off at me.”
“No, Emmie, it’s not like that. You don’t understand.”
“Is your father even sick?”
His silence answered that question.
“Where is she?”
“I can’t tell you.”
That’s when I completely lost it. Unintelligible words started falling out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop shrieking at him. I started to really feel like a hysterical banshee and then when he tried to pull me into his arms, I did get violent, pushing him away and screaming at him to keep his hands off me.
He backed off, his palms up in surrender. “Emmie, stop it, security is going to come.” He looked around, his face panicked, probably worried if anyone was watching they’d think he’d hit me or something the way I was carrying on. A tiny part of my brain knew I was overreacting, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Fine! Let them. Then you can explain to everyone what you’ve done. You lying piece of...” I went on to call him every name I could think of and a few that I made up on the spot until the tears came and I started heaving and sobbing. I wrapped my arms around my stomach but still felt like I was falling apart.
He stepped toward me, but kept his distance. “Emmie, you have to understand. It’s really complicated and I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. Brooklyn isn’t in on this, but she had to go under the radar for her own safety. I can’t explain more than that, but I promise, I never meant to hurt you. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”
“What do you mean ‘for her safety?’ What’s going on?”
He dragged his hand through his hair. “I can’t tell you. I promise I would if I could.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you, some kind of spy?”
He just stared at me, not answering. “I’m so sorry, Emmie.” He looked sincere, his face anguished, which just made me cry harder because none of it made any sense, except the feelings of betrayal. I realized he wasn’t going to tell me anything more, so I focused on what was most important.
“Is she okay?”
He nodded. “Now she is, yes.”
What did that mean? “Promise me what you’re telling me now is true and that she had no part in this. Look me in the eye and promise me she’s okay and that you did this to protect her and you had no choice.”
Tears poured out of my eyes, and he stepped forward and reached for me, but when I stepped backwards, he stopped, pressing his hand over his heart. “Yes, I promise you with everything I have, Emmie. It’s killing me to see you like this. I’m so sorry.”
“For what? That you were found out?”
He shook his head and then stared into my eyes again. “That I had to lie in the first place. That things can’t be different between us. That I like you so damn much.”
My throat was so tight, I couldn’t have said any more if I wanted to. I stared at him and took two deep breaths before I shook my head and turned, leaving him behind as I went into the school, ignoring as he kept calling my name.
I guess the good news about the school being empty was that no one witnessed me doing the ugly cry as I dragged myself up the stairs to the third floor.
Blowing Steam
I lasted in my room for about twenty minutes before I wanted to scream.
Full of nervous energy, I paced from the window to the door, around the bathroom and back again, feeling like a rat in a cage. Anger, humiliation, betrayal, hurt: a thousand emotions whirled around in my head while I tried to figure out what had happened and what part my roommate had played in it.
What did he mean when he’d said she had to go under the radar for her own safety? Safety from who? Or what? And where was she now? Then I remembered her passport. She wouldn’t need it if she hadn’t left the country.
I sat at my computer and opened up a browser window. I Googled her, but found nothing other than what I already knew. Then I Googled Rob and his parents and didn’t get much further. I did some more digging in different ways, but my expertise was in shopping carts and free trade tote bags, not hacking into databases, so there wasn’t much more I could do with my own knowledge and resources at hand.
Then I thought of someone who could cast a wider net.
My parents were on that world cruise, so I had to do a search to find the contact information for my dad’s old friend. It was the Saturday before Christmas, but I knew James O’Neil, Esquire didn’t go to the bathroom without his iPhone, so I knew he’d get my message. I sent him off an e-mail with the details and got his confirmation almost immediately that he’d be back to me as soon as he could.
That taken care of, I stood up again, looking around my dorm room for something to do and started pacing again. On my third trip around the room, my eyes landed on my gym bag. “That’ll do it,” I said to myself as I grabbed the handles and headed down and through the building to the rec center.
~ ♥ ~
I changed into my gym clothes and sat on the bench to tie my shoes. My mind still whirled with what I’d learned and what to think; I had nothing but time to try to work it out. At least until I heard back from James.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge at the door and headed out into the workout room, thinking a good hard sprint on the treadmill would help burn off some of my rage. But as I left the locker room, I heard music. Loud music. I followed the sound down to the gym and stopped at the open door when I realized it wasn’t the cleaners who had cranked the sound system.
A guy was jogging on one of treadmills, his back to me, facing the windows that overlooked the pool. It seemed so weird to see a guy in the Rosewood workout room that it didn’t sink in right away what I was seeing: a shirtless, cut guy with tattoos. Hot. Then I realized who this shirtless cut guy was.
“Danny,” I breathed.
I took the opportunity to discreetly ogle him while he ran, wishing I was close enough to see the tattoos in detail. Still, what I could see: a broad muscular back and big, hard biceps was more than enough to look at. He wore a pair of running shorts and as my eyes drifted down his fit body, I took in the toned thighs and calves as he ran. I’d never been a religious girl, but I suddenly felt like thanking God for the perfection in front of me.
He reached onto the tray of his treadmill and pointed a remote at the sound system, turning down the music. Suddenly, the rhythmic thumping of his feet and the whirrrr of the belt was the only sound in the room other than maybe my heart thumping loudly in my chest. Though I hoped he couldn’t hear that. “Emmeline?”
I gasped.
“You just going to stand there?”
When I didn’t move or say anything, he hit the stop button and hopped off the treadmill, turning toward me. “I saw your reflection in the window,” he said in explanation, grabbing a small towel draped over the side rail of the treadmill and using it to wipe off his face.
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “What are you doing here?” I asked, forcing my eyes to stay
on his, because if I allowed myself to look at his bare, sweaty, perfect chest while he dragged that towel over his pecs, I wasn’t going to be able to hold a conversation.
He shrugged. “House-sitting. The dean said the place would be empty.”
“I’ll leave you to finish,” I said, taking a step back.
“No, it’s okay. Come in; I don’t want to keep you from your own gym. We can work out together, can’t we?”
As I stood there, gaping at him, he smiled. That smile I’d seen only the one time before. And it was mesmerizing when it was aimed at me. “I promise I won’t yell at you,” he said, that smile getting wider until it suddenly dissolved. He dropped his chin, looking up at me through long lashes. “...or kiss you.”
I was happy about the former, but as I stepped over to the treadmills, being careful not to look at him but unable to keep from smelling the masculine scent of clean man sweat, I wasn’t so sure about the latter.
~ ♥ ~
Other than using it as a technique to burn off rage and what was required for school, I wasn’t much of a runner, but there I was jogging on a treadmill trying not to fall down or have a stroke next to this perfect specimen of the male form. He made it look easy and very, very good. I made it look, well, not good.
We were both working pretty hard, so chatting wasn’t really a possibility, but still, there was a weird electrical current passing between us. At least, it felt that way to me; maybe he wasn’t feeling it, but I didn’t think that was the case. It was hard to sneak peeks at him without being noticed, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try: when I reached for my water, turned my head to wipe my face on my sleeve, tried to catch his reflection in the window in front of us. One time I thought I caught him looking at me, but I glanced away as though I didn’t see it.
Finally, after about twenty minutes and long enough that I felt I was going to need a double lung and heart transplant, he hit stop and I did the same. My anger over Rob had reduced to a simmer on the back-burner and I was more than ready for a shower and another rom-com or four. Danny threw his t-shirt on, which I was kind of glad for, since it was hard to talk to him while he was shirtless and I was preparing to bid him a goodbye, one that I felt would be better delivered to his eyes instead of his nipples.
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