Definitely, Maybe in Love

by Ophelia London

  Stunned into silence, I could only gape at him.

  “Tu es sans voix, le Printemps. Quel est le problème?” His accent was perfect, elegant, incredibly sexy…which really ticked me off.

  “I don’t have a problem,” I murmured, purposefully answering his question in English.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Your French is very good, especially the curse words.”

  “I asked you once outright if you were studying French, and you said no. You lied?”

  “I’m not studying French now. I’ve been fluent for years.”

  “Splitting hairs,” I grumbled. “I’m sure you’ll be a great lawyer.”

  “Listen, there’s something you should know about me.” He took a beat, waiting until I was looking at him. “I never lie.” It almost sounded like a promise.

  This man sitting across from me, I had no idea who he really was. Was he the amoral hypocrite Alex made him out to be? Or was he the devoted brother who I’d heard Skyping with his younger sister for an hour on Thanksgiving, and two hours the next morning? Was he the forbearing comrade who allowed himself to be openly roasted by his best friend? Or was he the habitually arrogant pain in the ass who had nothing but condescending things to say?

  Or…perhaps he was that magnetic, congenial guy who took time out of his demanding law school schedule to help me. The guy who could turn my logic to mush with just one kiss.

  The truth was, I didn’t know. He’d made me smile once tonight—then kicked me in the teeth.

  I was tired of the roller coaster, tired of the war.

  “Why can’t you just apologize for making me look like an idiot?” I finally said. “And then we’ll be done with each other forever.”

  “You weren’t the one who looked like an idiot. I was. And…” His voice dropped lower. “I don’t want to be done with you forever.” He placed a hand on my arm again. I didn’t mind this time. “I am sorry. Will you please forgive me?” He squeezed my arm, reminding me that he was near. But that was impossible to forget.

  “I don’t want to fight anymore,” I whispered. It was the only thing I could think of to say. And it was the only thing I knew I really meant.

  “Neither do I,” he replied with another squeeze.

  “Then we won’t, okay?” I said. “Because I need you.”

  Henry’s eyes went wide, and the pressure of his hand on my arm grew heavier. “Spring.”

  “For research,” I quickly added. “I need your…help.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Of course. Whatever you need, for as long as you need. I’m here for you.”

  He stared down at his hand on my arm. When his thumb swept across the inside of my elbow, it felt like my skin lit up. His gaze moved back to my eyes, and on his face was an expression I’d seen a few other times. It wasn’t his charming smirk or his annoying lecturer’s leer. Henry was looking at me like a man looks at a woman.

  For a change, I didn’t force myself to turn and retreat. In fact, I was caught in a gravitational pull, curious about what the next moment would bring…

  “Heeeenryyyy?”

  Unfortunately, the next moment brought Lilah, her abrasive voice calling from downstairs. “Are you awake?”

  He withdrew his hand from my arm and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”

  I nodded slowly, in complete agreement.

  But Lilah was unyielding. “I heard something. Is that you?”

  Henry sighed and craned his neck to look toward the stairs. His thick voice answered her in the affirmative, but that he was on his way to bed. Even at two in the morning, I could smell his aftershave, his soap, his hair gel. His scents were like a cloud around my head, making me woozy. Being this close to him, in the dark, was like hearing Bruno Mars. I needed to get out of there.

  My stirring caught his attention. “Are you leaving?”

  “It’s really late,” I said, though I didn’t move away.

  “I guess it is. Thank you for”—he ran a hand through his curly hair—“well, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I still didn’t move, not ready to leave. But I couldn’t just sit there, wondering if that moment we’d shared would ever return. So finally, I padded down the carpet around me, making sure I hadn’t dropped anything during our earlier tumble. I found my phone down by our feet.

  “Any men in there?” Henry asked, eyeing the device in my hand. “Singers, I mean.”

  “None.”

  “Never?”

  “Not currently,” I emphasized.

  “Why is that?”

  “Do you really want to get into it right now?”

  He laughed quietly under his breath. “Probably not.” He eyed the phone again. “No Linkin Park?” I shook my head. “Tim McGraw?” I made a face. “Justin Bieber?” I dropped my chin, gazing at him through my lashes. “How about Long Kiss Goodnight?”

  My heart gave one hard, painful thud then seemed to stop cold. “Now?” I gasped, choking on the single syllable. “We probably shouldn’t, I mean…we—”

  “Oh, uh no,” he said. “That’s the name of a band. Long Kiss Goodnight.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I know.” Good grief. Pull it together, woman.

  Henry was quiet for a moment, then snagged my phone. “Give me this thing,” he said, standing up. “You’ll get it back in the morning with a new playlist. Allow me to educate you.”

  Without another word, he walked to my bedroom, returned a few seconds later with my laptop under an arm, stepped over me, and disappeared into his room.

  Chapter 14

  “Ms. Honeycutt?”

  The back of my head whacked against the wall when I jumped. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, dragging my mind to the present, focusing on Masen’s face sticking out his office door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  I tore out my ear buds—the sweet sounds of a new-to-me Maroon 5 song still running through my head. Was it any wonder my mind had drifted?

  After a deep inhale and swallow, I eased myself to my feet, prepared to focus on the most important meeting of my college career.

  This was our first appointment since he’d rejected my outline rewrite back in October. Since then, I’d worked like crazy. After a while, I could see what he was getting at when he’d broached the subject of the new angle. Now, my theory had a depth and richness that had been missing before. Potential.

  I hated to admit it, but Henry’s help and insight had kind of made all the difference. In fact, I wouldn’t be where I was without him. After Thanksgiving, it wasn’t as though we were miraculously eye-to-eye—we still didn’t agree on key issues—but it was like the distrust and tension were gone. Another kind of tension had taken its place, however. And I could never really look at him without tasting the tang of cran—

  “Take a seat.”

  I jumped again, then lowered myself into an old leather chair across from my professor’s messy desk. He had a hard copy of my new outline in one hand and was rubbing his chin with the other. We were apparently skipping conventional pleasantries, because Masen dropped my paper on his desk and jabbed a finger right in the middle.

  I gripped the arms of the chair, bracing myself for bad news.

  “Better,” he said.

  I breathed and unclenched my balled-up toes. “Thanks.”

  “I’m impressed that you took my advice. I wasn’t sure you would about something like this.”

  “No,” I said, “you were right. I needed a new perspective.”

  “It needs work but I definitely think you’re on the right track.” He passed my paper across the desk. “I made a few notes.”

  A few? The thing looks like a rainbow threw up on it.

  “But I really like this part.” He drew a circle around section three.

  “You do?” I said with a smile, still feeling so relieved that I wanted to stretch across the desk and kiss him. Kiss anyone! Who can I kiss?

  “Tell me.” He leaned back in his chair. “Who have you been working
with on this?”

  My throat went dry, thinking of exactly who I wanted to kiss.

  I tried very hard to stay in the present, to concentrate on Masen’s words for the next half hour, but even when we were done and I was back at the library, my mind kept hopelessly drifting, drifting, drifting…

  “Hey.”

  I jerked my gaze from my notebook to find Mel staring down at me.

  “What are you doodling?” She walked around the table to take a better look. “Is that argyle?”

  I stared at my paper. It was indeed a cluster of argyle diamonds. “No, it’s, uhh.” I quickly scribbled over the sketch. “Pizza.”

  “Pizza?” She examined the doddle again. “Wow. You really suck at drawing.”

  “Right?” I laughed, closing my notebook. “I guess I’m hungry.”

  “Well, then, let’s chow.”

  “I can’t,” I said, dragging over my laptop. “I’ve got a paper due and two tests to cram for. I’ll be here all night.”

  Mel pulled at the back of my chair. “You have to eat, babe. Come on. We’ll hop over to your place and I’ll cook for you. How does that sound?”

  She didn’t have to threaten bodily harm to convince me to get out for a while, to eat something solid before I pulled an all-night study session. She wasn’t the best chef in the world, but the thought of someone cooking for me did sound incredibly comforting.

  After not much of a fight, I allowed her to lead me home.

  …

  “And it’s also a maturing experience,” I said. “I’m learning a lot about myself and the world around me.”

  “Watch out for the car!” Mel yelled.

  I froze in place, one foot hanging off the curb as a pickup made a tight turn around the corner. After it passed, Mel grabbed me by the arm and yanked me back. “Pay attention to where you’re walking,” she said. “You’re in La-La Land.”

  “I’m not in La-La Land,” I defended. “I was just—”

  “You were just talking about Henry Knightly.”

  Was I? I thought I was talking about school.

  “So?” I said defensively, zipping up my coat, suddenly regretting being dragged from the library.

  “So, I haven’t seen you for two weeks.” She dug through her book bag, her hand resurfacing with a tube of pink lip gloss. “I want to hear about you.” She applied the shiny tint to her lips.

  “I am telling you about me.”

  “Oh?” she blinked and dropped the gloss in her bag. “Oh,” she repeated with an accompanying nod. “Okay. Continue. But without stepping into traffic, please. You were saying it’s a maturing experience to hang out with Henry.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying hard to remember where my earlier train of thought had been headed. “That’s how I’m looking at it,” I added, dipping one foot off the curb. Mel narrowed her eyes at my daredevilness.

  “Last I heard, you were about to jump off the Golden Gate because he was the only person willing to help with your thesis.” She linked her arm through mine and pulled me to the middle of the sidewalk as we walked toward my house.

  “That’s still true.”

  “But you’re spending all this time with him.”

  “It’s called research.”

  Mel’s expression bent in confusion in the gathering twilight. “I thought you hated the guy.”

  “I never said that.”

  She thought for a moment, biting her lip. “Are you still fighting?”

  “We disagree but we don’t fight.” I paused, considering if this was wholly truthful. “Not anymore. We kind of made an agreement about that. We’re more productive now.”

  A blue BMW drove toward us. It slowed, and Julia waved from the passenger side, Dart behind the wheel. All shiny teeth and shiny hair, they were a commercial for Old Navy. He honked the horn; Mel and I waved back.

  “Disagreeing with Henry is natural. We’re so different,” I continued, then laughed at just how understated that was. “You know me, and you know how Henry is.”

  “Not really,” she said. “I don’t know him. Not as well as you do.”

  I rolled my eyes, ignoring her vocal inflection.

  Mel stopped walking to dig through her bag again, swearing impatiently under her breath. “I know I have a Kit Kat in here somewhere.”

  “Chocolate before dinner? How unlike you.”

  “Better than a cigarette,” she grumbled. “I quit smoking last week. Ah-ha!” She pulled out a candy bar and held it up like the Olympic torch.

  “You quit smoking? When exactly did you start?”

  Mel tore open the candy bar wrapper with her teeth. “The week before that.”

  I laughed. “Anything to get you off the dreaded cocoa bean.”

  “It’s a vicious cycle,” she said, taking a big bite, eyes closed, sugar being absorbed into her blood stream, endorphins all abuzz. The candy bar was gone in approximately three bites. She wadded up the empty wrapper then grabbed her phone. “Tyler’s calling again.”

  “Ah.” I smiled. “The elusive summer boyfriend in Washington. When will I get to meet him?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She shot me a withering glance. “I’ve been inviting you up to my grandparents’ house for ten years. Just say the word and we’ll go.” She smiled down at her phone and texted something. “What I wouldn’t do for seven minutes in heaven with Tyler right now.”

  “Classy, Mel.”

  “Speaking of,” she said as we neared my house, “how does Alex fit into the steaming and beefy pot of testosterone stew you’ve got simmering in your Crock-Pot?” She eyed me up and down.

  “I haven’t seen Alex in a few weeks,” I said. “Not since—”

  “Thanksgiving. I know.” Mel’s words had an I-told-you-so behind them.

  When I huffed, I could see my breath. “To answer your question, Melanie, Henry and I don’t discuss Alex Parks, okay?” I actually felt my chin sticking out, like I was appalled at having to explain myself.

  We crossed the street, passing by a frat house. A group of guys were outside playing Frisbee wearing only shorts. It was dark and freezing. Mel stopped to gawk.

  “I don’t particularly care about whatever happened between Henry and Alex,” I added, “and I’m sure Henry doesn’t either.” I broke off, worried that I might have said too much. As far as I knew, Mel had no knowledge of their turbulent history, and it wasn’t my place to share.

  “Very diplomatic,” Mel said. “You should run for office.”

  We stopped in front of my house. No lights were on. Across the street, the black Viper was in the driveway, parked crooked like always.

  “So, if you’re not allowed to argue,” she said, “that means there’s no political discussions between you two, no money talk, no women’s lib, no Alex. What do you guys do in that tiny study room? There’s not even space enough to… Ohhh.” She grinned and hooked her arm through mine. “Does he brush his teeth first? And use mouthwash? He looks like he has a very clean mouth.” She moaned and stared off into space. “Mmm, I bet it’s like kissing a tunnel of minty freshness, right?”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “I haven’t been kissing Henry Knightly!”

  The front door across the street slammed. Mel and I jumped about a mile. I whirled around to see Henry standing under the porch light, wearing a black leather jacket. No doubt, there was some form of argyle attached to his body.

  “It’s a little early for you to be home, isn’t it, Spring?” he called out, pointing at his watch. I felt Mel tighten her grip on my arm. “Don’t tell me all campus libraries burned to the ground.”

  Without bothering to look at her, I knew Mel’s curious eyes were glued on me, studying my every move. I could practically hear her panting as she waited for my answer. Henry was halfway across his lawn now.

  “I have a study group in an hour,” I called back.

  “Stopping home for some tofu first?” he asked as he changed direction and started walk
ing toward his car.

  “Funny,” I muttered. I heard him laughing.

  The Viper’s car alarm chirped twice and its lights winked. Henry ran a hand through his hair. It was extra curly tonight, like he’d let it air dry after a shower.

  “Holy-mother-of-sexy,” Mel whispered. “Seriously, Springer, he’s hotter than the friggin’ Sahara. Look at that body and that face…those lips. How can you not jump his—”

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “Are we still on for tomorrow night?” Henry called, pulling open the door of the Viper.

  I snuck a quick glance at Mel. She was gawking at me now, waiting for my answer. “Um, yeah,” I said as he climbed in his car.

  “Bye, Henry,” Mel sang, her voice high-pitched and childlike.

  He regarded Mel blankly. “Right. Take care, now.”

  After he closed the door, Mel broke from me and doubled over laughing.

  The Viper’s engine roared to life, and Henry revved it a few times, the tailpipe emitting gray exhaust. It wafted up, blending in with the night fog. He backed out of the driveway then straightened out. I couldn’t see him through the dark tinted windows, and after he drove past, I let out an exhale. Mel was still wiggling her fingers after him.

  “Stop that,” I snapped, slapping her hand. “He’s going to think—”

  “What?” she asked eagerly.

  “Nothing.” I laughed, bumping her shoulder. “You’re such a ho-bag.” I was relieved Mel hadn’t circled back to the kissing thing. I didn’t know how I’d explain Thanksgiving morning. Me covered in cocoa powder and Henry with cranberry sauce running down his face…our mouths—

  “So you’re going out with him tomorrow night?”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “Aren’t you going to the lecture on campus? The keynote is the lady who chained herself to the redwood tree. I thought that was right up your alley.”

  “I am going.”

  Mel took a beat. “Henry Knightly is going with you to the tree lady?”

  I rubbed my nose. “He said he was interested.”

  Mel tossed her head back, erupting in cackles. “Oh, babe. That is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.” Cold breath billowed from her open mouth like smoke from a chimney. “So if the two of you aren’t talking about all his money or his sweet butt, and you refuse—for some insane reason—to tear off those designer suits and have your way…what do you do?”