The Fifteenth Minute

by Sarina Bowen

  Now I’m just standing here giving her a big cheesy grin, but I don’t know how to stop. Luckily, Orsen pops me on the shoulder. “Can I have a slice, dude?”

  “Go for it.” The guy can have anything of mine he wants. I owe him big for renting me a room in the house his parents bought last year as an investment. The other guys living there are all seniors. But this summer I was suddenly in need of a new place to live. So my brother called Orsen and space was made. I’ve got a tiny room they didn’t consider big enough to rent out, but it works for me. I was clinging to my Harkness enrollment by my fingernails, and Orsen threw a net under me.

  He did it as a favor to my brother, the team captain. But I appreciate it nonetheless.

  “Orsen is a good guy,” Lianne says, as if she’s read my mind.

  “True.”

  “Your brother, too. But I’m not so sure about his taste in women.”

  I laugh so suddenly that I almost choke on a bit of cheese. “You noticed that, huh?” I ask when I can speak again.

  “It’s pretty hard to miss.”

  “Yes it is.” Finishing my slice, I wipe my hands on a napkin. Then I park my ass against the wall beside Lianne and survey the room. It’s the usual scene—hockey players refueling after practice and the puck bunnies who swarm Capri’s to get close to them. Amy is stapled to my brother’s side because she knows there are other sharks circling. Though my brother has shown no signs of wanting to trade Amy in for a newer model, even if I wish he would. “Let me tell you a little story,” I hear myself say.

  “Sure?”

  “My brother had a high school girlfriend—Georgia. She was captain of the tennis team, and he was captain of the hockey team…”

  “They were the golden couple,” she says, and I nod. “Was she nicer than Amy?”

  “So much nicer. I was sixteen when they were seniors, and I had the biggest crush on Georgia. I used to tell her so all the time.” The memory makes me smile. “Leo hated that. But it was our little joke. She was awesome. They were together for years, and I thought they might stay a couple even though they were headed for different colleges.”

  “But they didn’t?”

  I shake my head. “Over winter break, she went to a tennis training camp in Florida. One night she was walking back from hanging out in someone else’s dormitory.” And now I realize too late that this story is just too scary for a night of pizza and jukebox music. “She, uh, was attacked.”

  “Oh my God.” Lianne has a terrified look on her face now. “Was she okay?”

  I am clearly an idiot for telling her something so dark. But it’s been a long time since anyone listened to me quite like Lianne does. Clearly I’ve forgotten how casual conversation works. “Yeah, she was okay eventually. I mean—she was traumatized and missed a bunch of school. But my brother was awesome. For months he went over to her house every day after school to watch movies with her. He read homework assignments to her. He brought her cupcakes. He made funny videos to cheer her up. He never stopped, even though she was really a mess.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes dart over to Leo and then back again. “What happened?”

  “Georgia got some counseling and eventually went back to school. And then he held her hand on the way into the building and out, and he drove her everywhere until graduation, so she’d feel safe.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. He loved Georgia. A lot. But the day after graduation, she broke up with him. She said she wanted to wipe the slate clean.”

  “Ouch!” Lianne’s eyes are still round. “That’s not how I hoped this story ended.”

  “Me neither.” My whole family was stunned when she cut him loose. “Anyway, Amy is the latest in a string of bitchy girlfriends. I think he picks the ones that are made of Kevlar. Maybe he doesn’t really love them, but he can’t really get hurt, either.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  Yep. Good going, DJ. “I know. I’m sorry. I was just trying to explain why my brother does what he does. Even when I feel like taping Amy’s mouth shut, part of me gets it.”

  Jesus, Leo cried when Georgia left him. I don’t think he’d cried since the third grade before that.

  “What happened to Georgia?” Lianne asked. “Do you know?”

  I wish I did. “She went to college, and friends have told us that she’s doing really well. But I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. I wonder how she’s doing.” And now it’s time to change the subject, for everyone’s sake. Lianne is finishing her slice in dainty bites, so I offer her another.

  “No thanks,” she says. “I should go, anyway. I’ve got some work to do.”

  “You know it’s the first day of the semester, right?” I really don’t want her to leave.

  She picks up her beer glass and drains it. “Yeah, but I have…” She cuts herself off with a frown.

  “What?”

  “To, um, read something for work.” Then she starts speaking really fast. “No big thing. I-better-go-it’s-getting-late.” She grabs her purse off the table and tucks the strap over her shoulder. Lianne is making a getaway but I don’t even have her number yet.

  She tries to slip past me but I catch her hand in mine. “One sec. There’s one thing you forgot.”

  Those long eyelashes lift, and she’s staring up into my eyes. Looking…nervous. That can’t be it. Nobody gets nervous about flirting with me. “I did?” she asks.

  “Yeah. If I’m meeting you for dinner Thursday, then I need some way to contact you.”

  “Oh,” she breathes. “Okay. Hang on.” She digs into her bag, hopefully to find her phone.

  “Hey, Deej?” My brother Leo—or Trevi to everyone in this room, as if he’s the only one with rights to our last name—is suddenly at my elbow.

  “Take the pizza,” I hiss. And then fuck off. His timing could not be worse.

  “Dad needs you to phone him tonight,” Leo says. “He says you’re not taking his calls.”

  “Fine,” I say, my eyes on Lianne. Her phone is clutched in her small hands, and she’s tapping her passcode into the screen with shiny pink fingernails that remind me of candies.

  Can my brother not take a hint?

  “Okay, ready?” Lianne looks up and smiles at me.

  With an open hand, I lay my palm across my brother’s face and nudge him away until he melts back into the Capri’s crowd. Then I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Okay, shoot.” She rattles off the number and I test it to make sure I’ve got it right. When I’m done, my phone notifies me that I’ve missed another call from my dad. Big surprise.

  “I’m heading home,” Lianne says.

  “Let me walk you out,” I say.

  Lianne makes a sound that I can’t quite interpret. A squeak, almost. But she waits for me. So I cup her elbow in one hand and lead her to the side door.

  “I didn’t know there was a door here,” she babbles.

  We step outside. The side street is quiet, as always. Her eyes are wide in the glow of the streetlight, and I smile for no reason at all.

  “Um, thanks for the pizza,” she says.

  I shrug. “Don’t thank me yet, smalls. Thank me after I introduce you to Gino’s.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Really? We’re doing short jokes now?”

  “Hey!” I lift both hands in surrender. “I thought that was something we had in common.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “Why?”

  Seriously? “I don’t exactly tower over people, either.” Though it’s kind of her not to notice.

  Lianne lifts her chin and looks into my eyes. “Everyone towers over me.”

  This is surprisingly true. I actually have to look down to see her properly. And when I do, I see that her expression has shifted to something dreamy. There’s a stirring in my chest I haven’t felt in a long time. And it’s not because the girl looking up at me is famous. Right now I don’t see Lianne Challice, star of stage and screen. I’m looking at a girl who’s ambivalent about pizza but awesome wit
h rock music trivia.

  And she wants a kiss.

  For the first time in months, my mind goes quiet. I hope the moment lasts, because the stillness is as beautiful as the hopeful eyes of the girl in front of me. My hand extends to catch her cheek in my palm. The air around us is cold, but her face is warm to the touch. “I’ll see you on Thursday,” I whisper.

  Her nod is almost imperceptible. She’s quiet. Waiting. The moment yawns open. We both know what’s supposed to happen next, but I hesitate. After all that’s occurred, I still know the steps but I no longer trust the dance.

  I sweep the pad of my thumb across her perfect cheekbone. Then she leans into my hand. It’s slight—almost imperceptible. But it’s there. A sign.

  It’s a short journey to her mouth, but I say a little prayer along the way. Please.

  On the first pass I’m still cautious. I take just a brush of her soft lips, landing on her jaw. She smells of berries, I think. Something sweet. I pause there, pressing a kiss to her skin, and she shivers. Then instinct kicks in. I slip my fingers to the nape of her neck and pull her closer to me. The warmth of her small body finds mine, and I have to kiss her. I turn my head a few degrees and find her soft mouth with my hungry one.

  The noise she makes is a whimper. I kiss it away. Her lips taste as sweet as they look. I angle my head, deepening the kiss just slightly. Maybe because I haven’t done this in a long time, or maybe because it’s Lianne Challice I’m kissing—but all my senses are dialed up to eleven. I feel every inch of her body where it touches mine, and the sweet scent of her hair is making me crazy. I’m a loose wire sizzling through the air, humming and electrified.

  But still wary. That’s probably never going away.

  Her lips part, and I take only a little taste, my tongue finding hers for a split second before retreating. She groans, and leans into me. It’s one of those moments where we’re either going to stop, or things are going to rapidly escalate.

  And I know what I need to do.

  I kiss her one more perfect time, and then ease back. She releases me reluctantly, her chin dropping, her teeth on her lower lip.

  Catching her chin in one hand, I tilt her face up to mine. She looks…embarrassed. But I don’t see why that should be. I kiss her perfect forehead, her sweet scent enveloping me once again. “Sure glad I came out for pizza tonight,” I whisper.

  “Me too,” she breathes. “Um…” She gives herself a little shake. “I should go.”

  “You going to be okay from here?” My voice comes out husky. There’s no reason to worry for her, though. We’re right on campus, and a half a block away students are spilling out of the concert hall, where a performance has just ended.

  “Yeah,” she whispers. “Goodnight.”

  She gives me a shy smile before she walks off down the sidewalk.

  I watch her go, feeling like a heel for not walking her home. But I don’t want to explain that I’ve been asked by the dean of students not to set foot inside student housing this year. The trouble I’m in is both terrifying and completely embarrassing.

  Speaking of trouble.

  Even though I’d rather focus on Lianne and that amazing kiss, I pull out my phone and redial my dad. If I avoid him any longer he’s going to get mad, which will only make things worse for all of us. “Sorry,” I say when he picks up. “It’s been a really busy day.” That’s sort of true, anyway.

  “Daniel,” he says, his voice serious. “Son, I need you to call the new lawyer back tomorrow. He wants to get to work clearing your name, but he can’t help you until he hears from you.”

  “Okay,” I promise. The trouble is I’ve already made this promise and then broken it. And Dad isn’t going to put up with that anymore.

  “Tomorrow, Daniel. This guy is the very best. He’s a specialist, and he’s on your side. I can’t understand why you don’t just call.”

  How is it so hard to explain? It’s like being sent to an oncologist. Hey, the cancer doctor is on your side. Why aren’t you looking forward to the appointment? In this case, the specialist isn’t trying to keep me out of an early grave. He’s trying to keep me at Harkness.

  “I will call him after my first class,” I promise again. I’m going to do it, too. I’ll get this off my back so I can enjoy my date with Lianne. My first date in months.

  “You do that,” he says. “I need you to keep the faith.”

  “I will.” But it’s an empty promise, because keeping the faith requires having some in the first place.

  We hang up, and I lean against Capri’s brick wall and wonder for the hundredth time whether my father even believes I’m innocent. He says he does. But my father is all about damage control. He’s an accountant and a devout Catholic. He married my mother when they were both twenty-one. My brother came along a year later and began breaking records right out of the womb. Star athlete. Super scholar. Most likely to break every heart on the North Shore of Long Island.

  Then there’s me. The other brother. The difficult one. Even when they don’t say it, I can hear my parents thinking: why can’t you be more like your brother? And that was before the college accused me of a heinous crime.

  It’s getting late now, and it’s really freaking cold out here. So I go back inside Capri’s to grab my coat and say goodnight.

  At least one thing went right today. While I walk home by myself, I’m humming “Cold as Ice” by Foreigner and remembering the shape of Lianne’s smile.

  3

  A Six-Second Crossfade

  Lianne

  I wake up slowly on Tuesday morning before my alarm. But that’s because another kind of alarm is going off on the other side of my wall.

  Separating my room from Bella’s are two wooden doors and a small bathroom. That may sound like a decent divide, but acoustics are strange. Our bathroom seems to amplify the sound of my two best friends getting it on.

  I have no idea what a “normal” amount of sex in a relationship is. I’ve never had a relationship, and I’ve barely had sex. But wherever the mean lies, I’m fairly sure Rafe and Bella are several standard deviations past it. Most nights I fall asleep to one of the playlists I’ve compiled to drown out the sounds of their passion. (A six-second crossfade is sufficient to cancel out the grunts and dirty talk that make it hard to look them in the eye over brunch the next morning.)

  Mornings are trickier. I’m half asleep right now, my limbs heavy. But I become slowly aware of furtive little gasps and a low moan coming from the next room. My phone and earbuds aren’t on the bedside table where I sometimes leave them, either.

  My heavy eyelids fall closed again, and I drift for a moment. Maybe it’s the porn soundtrack next door, or maybe it’s inevitable. But my sleepy brain picks that moment to remember a wonderful thing.

  DJ kissed me last night.

  Rolling onto my side, I smile into the pillow. He was so, so cute. And even sexier than I’d remembered. Every time he grinned that boyish grin, I became a little stupider. By the time we got outside, I was practically in a nervous coma.

  But it was so worth it. When he’d pulled me against his hard body, I’d wanted to scale him like a tree.

  I still want to.

  The noises from next door have picked up the pace. My breathing accelerates just imagining what it would be like to have a man like DJ want me so badly he was breathing hard and making those low, eager grunts. Because I’m polite, I put my palm over my exposed ear to muffle the sound of the grand finale. But now I can hear my own heartbeat glugging along, wishing for someone who’s not here. I squeeze my eyes shut and think of DJ again, his moist lips, the hint of beer on his tongue. His fingers in my hair…

  When I lift my palm off my ear a minute later, it’s quiet. I could get up and go out for coffee. But I don’t have class until ten today. So I lean out of bed just far enough to grab the FedEx envelope that arrived yesterday afternoon. When I tear it open, a fat script tumbles onto the quilt.

  Nightfall. Screenplay by Roland Sebring. Ba
sed on the novel by Helen Botts.

  I wonder what Helen Botts will think about Princess Vindi showing some skin. I’ve met Helen Botts, and she’s a lovely silver-haired librarian type who now drives a Bentley. I suppose if Helen Botts doesn’t like the movie, she can weep into her royalty statement.

  Lifting the cover, I flip to the first page. Let the skimming commence. They’ve opened the film at the castle gates. Lucifer has found a way to appear like a storm cloud over the city, terrifying the children.

  Yada yada yada.

  Princess Vindi’s first line is on page eleven. “I am not interested in your excuses, Lord Shelter. The time for excuses has passed.”

  Sigh. It could be worse. In fact, I’m sure it gets worse. I keep flipping.

  The sex scene is on page 132.

  They grope, caress, moan and fondle. Vindi’s robe slides off her velvet breast. Valdor ducks his head to catch the pink teat carefully in his fangs. The camera pans downward to reveal clothing falling to the floor. With a heated rush of sexual urgency, Vindi mounts Valdor. The soundtrack rises with the keening writhings of intercourse. Valdor’s shouts are increasingly loud. The camera pans Vindi’s milky white, heaving bosom as she screams in consummation. Cut to Vindi’s shuddering face. Valdor moans deliciously, pulling Vindi softly into his embrace.

  I let out a shriek.

  A few seconds later Bella comes tearing through the door, mouth gaping. Her eyes skate around the room until she finds me in my bed. “What is it? A spider?” She’s wearing a Harkness Soccer T-shirt and nothing else except the flush of someone who was recently…

  Gah.

  I fall back onto my pillow. “There’s no spider, Bella. I wish that was the problem.”

  “What is it then? Hang on…” She darts into the bathroom and reappears a second later wearing her bathrobe.

  Words can’t do the problem justice, so I hand the script over. Her eyes scan the page, and I know exactly when she’s found the object of my horror. Because she bursts out laughing.

  “Stop,” I whine. “It wouldn’t be funny if it was you.”