Passionate Kisses

by Various

  As soon I know I’m safe the throbbing in my knee becomes apparent. There’s only one way in and out of my apartment unless you use the fire escape. And even Darren wouldn't attempt that, but I check that window anyway to make sure it’s locked. I go back and recheck the door chain, twice.

  Hobbling to the freezer for an ice pack, I’m still scared and so confused. What kind of sick game is he playing? I sit and let the ice numb my knee. The more I think about it, the more freaked out I get. I cannot believe Darren just tried to attack me. Do I call the police? That seems a little extreme, but still. Would he really have hurt me if I hadn't kicked him so hard?

  The thought of him is making me sick. With my knee numb, I limp through the house and take down every photograph and every memento I have of him. I have a pretty big pile when I’m done. Wow, I had no idea that I had kept this much stuff out that reminds me of him. I wonder what Ryan thinks about that.

  I take a shoebox from my closet and put everything in it. I also grab the few things Darren left here and dump them in the box, too. When everything is in the box, I hide it in the back of my closet.

  Too keyed up to sleep, but still exhausted from my day, I crawl into bed and turn on the TV. My knee is bruising; it's going be sore tomorrow.

  Wishing Ryan was with me, I drift off to sleep in front of late night television.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Wednesday morning hits me hard. Not only does my head hurt from a tense night of sleep, my knee is swollen and sore. I wrap it with an Ace bandage and wear a long, free-flowing skirt. The last thing I want is to get into a discussion about what happened to my knee. How the hell do I explain that my ex-boyfriend tried to attack me last night? He was obviously drunk, but still, I have no idea what his intentions were. How bad was it going get? I shudder at the thought.

  I think about calling Ryan, but don't know what to say to him, either. This whole situation is unexplainable. Period.

  With my knee wrapped, I almost don't limp. After applying extra makeup under my eyes, I almost look normal, too. Still slightly sick to my stomach, I gather my stuff and head off to face another grueling day at work.

  I barely notice the drive over; my head is still reeling over what happened last night. Has Darren just completely lost his mind? Does he not know that the break up was real? Or was he really just that drunk? Maybe his insistence on control all these years was hiding some underlining psychosis. He’s certainly a bit OCD, but I thought he just really liked schedules, not that he would completely lose it when his control over me ended. Darren in full-blown meltdown is not something I want to deal with.

  Lost in thought, I realize I have been sitting at my desk, staring at a pile of correspondence I didn't get to yesterday. Oh goodie, my favorite task—not. Maybe it’ll take my mind off everything else.

  I work through the morning with no interruptions. Everything in the office seems calm. Julie and Sophia dart back and forth to each other's offices, some of the other staff trailing behind with sample books and large files. No sign of David, though.

  I wonder what Ryan is doing right now. I’m still baffled how he can be so attentive and passionate with me on the weekends, but then completely cut me off during the week. Is his work that important, that grueling? Or is it just an excuse to not be bothered by me? My thoughts go back to Katie and her friends. Is Ryan hiding me? Or is he just done with me? Found someone else? My head starts to spin and I collapse on my desk.

  "Hey. Are you dead?" Sophia pokes her head in.

  "Ha! I wish," I say, not lifting my head.

  I hear her come in and sit down.

  "Oh, my God. Are you okay?" Sophia's eyes are wide with concern when I peek out. Seeing that, I sit back up again.

  "Yeah. I'm fine. Thought I was going to get fired yesterday. Haven't heard from Ryan all week, and I think Darren might be having a mental break down," I say this as monotone as possible.

  Her eyes get even wider, which is impressive.

  "Wait, what? Fired, shut out, and melt down, and it's only Wednesday."

  "I know, right? Ryan won't talk to me during the week. We've been dating for a while now. We've had some amazing times." I shudder at the memories and Sophia smiles at me. "But whenever I call him during the week, it's like talking to a different guy."

  "Okay. Work-a-holic? Or just an asshole?" She sits back in the chair.

  "Not sure. Don't think he's playing me. I met his entire family and his two ex-girlfriends over Memorial weekend. I know most of the people he works with so—" I trail off, not wanting to admit that I already know his brush off MO. "I'm thinking work-a-holic," I add, hopefully.

  "Damn. Those are the worst. At least with assholes, you can dump them. What's up with Darren?" She asks, having no idea what a loaded question it is.

  "Oh, Christ. I don't even know. Let's skip Darren. Have you heard Colleen and David talking? Am I going to get fired?"

  She laughs at this. "Yeah, right. Like I'd know. I don't think so. He usually melts and fires people on the spot, so I think you made it out unscathed. This time."

  She gets up and heads to the door. "Hang in there."

  I breathe out and wonder if I want to get fired. That would certainly change a few things. Get a grip, Nora, don't quit your day job just yet! My mind goes back to Ryan. Damn it, why shouldn't I call him? He took me to a sex club, for Pete’s sake. I think that gives me the right, doesn’t it? Besides, we haven't talked in three days.

  "Cole here," Ryan snaps into the phone, not the welcome I was hoping for.

  "Uh. Hi, Ryan. It's Nora. I was uh—" I trail off, feeling like a complete idiot.

  "Sorry. This is a bad time, Nora. Can I call you later this week?" Ryan still sounds short, but less angry.

  "Later this week?" I blurt out. Is he kidding me?

  "Just a second," he says. I can't tell if he is talking to me or someone else. I hear voices through the phone, and then rustling. "Nora. I'm sorry. I can't talk to you right now."

  "Okay," I breathe out. "Can I see you tonight?" I'm desperately trying not to sound needy, but I kind of am needy right now.

  "No. I can't see you until Friday."

  "Friday," I repeat, my voice dropping. This is not how I wanted to recover from Darren's meltdown. Rejection and getting played feel the same in the beginning. I want no part of either, and now I’m getting pissed. "Really?"

  "Listen. We talked about this. Work is crazy right now," Ryan almost hisses into the phone.

  I have no patience for it. My nerves are frayed, I’m exhausted, and I cannot fathom any scenario where Ryan couldn't take a phone call, or come over and see me during the workweek.

  "What the fuck, Ryan? Am I your weekend slut, or are you blowing me off like Katie?" I shout in the phone.

  "Jesus Christ, Nora. What is wrong with you?" I hear him take a breath as if he might say something else. I cut him off.

  "Fuck off," I say, quietly this time, and hang up the phone.

  That did not go as planned. Damn it! My knee starts throbbing and my head feels like it's in a vice grip. I give myself three minutes of self-pity, then get up to go get some coffee and Advil.

  By five o'clock I’m more exhausted, but still antsy. It's a feeling I got used to when I was in college, but haven't felt in a few years. Heading to the computer lab, I hope I can work my brain into utter exhaustion and then sleep it off. With this knee, running is clearly out of the question.

  The lab is in a strip mall in Palo Alto. Faded, yellowish brick surrounds the outside, giving the building a 70’s look. Once inside, its age jumps by at least a decade. Thin, blue carpeting covers the floor and stairs leading to a large room filled with 20 or so older model PCs. Each one is already running the software program. No logging in, no recording time, students come in, sit down, and get to work.

  There is one young woman sitting at the front desk as a monitor. She is clearly not a law student, for the second night in a row she is reading a thick, dog-eared novel. I smile as I pass
by, showing my new ID.

  For the first time in almost 24 hours, I relax. It feels good to be doing something I want to be doing. I get right to work.

  "Lab's closing in five!" the monitor says.

  Whoa, what happened to the time? I look at the clock and sure enough, it's almost ten. I notice a few more students have joined me, but I didn't see them come in.

  Getting up, my knee feels stiff. Oh great, memories of Darren's episode flood my brain, causing fear to slither into my gut. I reach into my bag for the large flashlight I borrowed from the office.

  Driving back on the edge of my seat, I can't believe Darren is making me feel this unsafe. Please, please let there be a parking space in the lot. I keep repeating that, as if saying it will make it come true.

  Damn, the lot is full. This is not going to work out long-term. There is no way I’m going to park where I parked last night, but where, then? I drive around the block a few times, looking out for strange people. Nothing is out there except cars and street lamps. After my third time around I shake my head; this is so unfair. Damn it, Darren, you psycho, making me this paranoid. I just want to get home!

  Steeling myself, I pull into a spot on the other side of the building. No way he’s out there again, I tell myself. My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my ears. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I grab the large flashlight I hope to use as a weapon if needed, and head to my apartment.

  The front door is a most welcome sight. Once inside, I almost want to do a victory dance as I let out one long exhale. Yeah, I made it all the way without getting attacked by my crazy ex-boyfriend! Wait—there are so many things wrong with that.

  I need to move.

  For law school, I'd have to move anyway. I might as well move now and start saving money. I can go pretty far down market and still be comfortable, and Darren won't know where I live.

  ~~~~~~~~

  "Well, this one is a single studio, great for students!" The apartment manager sprinkles everything she says with ‘great’ for somebody. So far we have seen great for families, great for working professionals, great for newlyweds, and now great for students. At least we’re getting closer to what I need.

  The apartment is tiny. Basically, it's a box with a bathroom attached to it. I could mop the kitchen floor with a paper towel. But, it's far away from where I live now, and about half the price.

  "What about parking? Does it have an assigned spot?" I ask, memories of wandering around at night looking for a safe parking spot still fresh in my mind.

  "Oh yes, each apartment gets one spot, numbered, of course. Not the apartment number, of course." Her eyebrows move up and down with each 'of course.' She has dark black hair that was once, maybe early this morning, curled and sprayed, but now is just frayed. Her makeup is starting to run, too, she looks like she has had quite a day, so far. Maybe managing an apartment complex is harder than it looks.

  "Is this one month to month?" I’m still mulling over the small space.

  "This one is six months with an option, of course." She smiles as her eyebrows jump up her forehead.

  I note the time, already after two. I have to get back to work.

  "Okay, thanks," I say, hoping to sound interested, but not desperate. "I have a lot to think about."

  We walk out together. That was the sixth apartment today. Not bad for starting late last night. All of them or none of them will work. On the drive back to the office, my head swims with the overwhelming variety and choices out there.

  Moving seems like the best plan to me. Not just because of Darren, although I have to admit, that is big part of it. I know that I want to apply to law school. I know that I hate my job and want to do something else. I know that if I go to law school I will move, either into a dorm, or a roommate situation. I might even move out of state. I hadn't considered that before, I just assumed I'd go back to Stanford, but really, who knows?

  Walking briskly from the car to the office, I try to clear my head for the afternoon.

  "Oh, hi, Nora," Abby, our receptionist, looks up as I walk in the door.

  "Hi," I say as I walk by her desk.

  "Wait, Nora. Sorry to yell. A Ryan Cole came in looking for you while you were out."

  My heart stops. "Ryan was here?" I turn back to face her.

  "Yes. He stopped by. Didn't leave a message or anything."

  "How long ago?" I ask, shocked.

  "Right when I got back from lunch, around 1:30."

  Damn. I can't believe it. Why didn't he call me?

  "Okay." I smile at her. "Thanks for letting me know."

  Confused, I walk back to my desk. Why would he come here during the day and not last night? Why didn't he call me? Or leave a message? Do I call him? What now?

  "Nora," David's voice fills my office through the intercom.

  "Yes."

  "We have a new client meeting, I'd like you join us. Can you come in here?"

  And there goes the rest of my day.

  "Be right there," I get up and clear my thoughts of apartments, law schools, and Ryan to the side to make room for whatever David needs.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Friday afternoon rolls in with some big summer clouds. David's new client proved to be a lot of fun, but a lot of work. She is putting together a pirate party on her yacht for about 300 people. The party isn't until next October, but she has enough experience with big parties to know she needs to start now.

  Finally, something other than a wedding to work on! I’m thrilled to be working on this project. It's a big enough party that all four of us are collaborating, so Julie, Sophia, and I will get to spend a lot of time together, and try to keep each other sane while working under David.

  The weather looks ominous. Big black storm clouds are swirling above me and there is electricity in the air. It reminds me of the summer storms in the mountains. A bit unusual for this area, though.

  The sky also reminds me that I haven't heard from Ryan. He didn’t come by my house last night that I know of. I was in class until late, but there was no note on my door, nor any phone messages. I’m at a total loss as to what to do now. Whatever we do, we need to sort out how we communicate with each other. My stomach sours as the day drags on.

  Gathering up my belongings, I think back to last Friday and feel a pang of sadness at the difference. Last Friday we had a big date and an amazing weekend. This Friday, I’m going home alone to watch a DVD and eat ice cream on the couch. Driving home, I contemplate which movie to watch. Do I go for a Bourne movie, or a romantic classic like Practical Magic? I could go either way, but first I’m going to ditch my work clothes and find my most comfortable, God-awful sweat pants, and my old favorite T-shirt from my college days. Thank God I kept them. I think I took every final exam in that shirt.

  With renewed enthusiasm for my night, I climb the stairs. But opening the door, the apartment seems cold and lonely. I miss Ryan. For the first time since we met, we don't have plans to see each other. I think back to our last conversation and cringe.

  With a resigned sigh, I throw my bag down and go change. I will not call him. I know that is what I am dying to do. No! I force myself to change into the most comfortable clothes I own and watch my chick flick.

  Wrapped in a blanket with a carton of ice cream in my lap, Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock are fighting for love and normalcy on the screen in front me. I’m almost happy, maybe even content. When this ice cream is done, I think I’ll make some popcorn. I skipped the dinner part and went straight to dessert.

  The doorbell rings.

  Oh, jeez. That better not be Darren! I get up and pad over to the door, peering through the peephole, my heart stops. Holy crap, it’s Ryan! And he has flowers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I can't believe I look like this and Ryan is standing outside my door with flowers.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I breathe out slowly. Hesitantly, I open the door.

  "I know you’re pissed. I totally get it. Plea
se let me in," Ryan pleads with me through the small opening of the door.

  My heart melts and I open it all the way. His face relaxes as the door opens. He looks so vulnerable, something tightens in my chest. He's wearing faded jeans and a dark green T-shirt so old it's clinging to his muscles. His hair is disheveled, as if he has been raking his hands through it.

  "Hi," I say, still slightly embarrassed by my state. "Um, wasn't really expecting you, maybe I should go change."

  His eyes run up and down my body and grow dark, a wicked smile playing around his lips.

  "No way. You're cute as hell. Is this what you wear when you're alone?"

  He breezes in and shuts the door. I notice he has a grocery bag in his other hand. Handing me the flowers first, he smiles and walks into the kitchen.

  "Thanks for these. I'll get a vase and some water," I say, following him.

  "Look. I need to explain some stuff. But first, I'm bribing you with flowers and dinner." He busies himself unloading takeout containers and placing them on the counter.

  "Okay. The flowers got me to open the door. So, that one was a winner," I say as I hunt for a vase big enough to hold the bouquet of wildflowers and baby's breath.

  "Good to know. I'll remember that," he says behind me. His voice is flirty with a hint of sex. Oh, he is pushing it tonight.

  "Ryan. Look—" I start to turn around.

  He’s there in an instant, covering my mouth his finger. Tingles run down my spine with his touch. Damn body can’t even hold it together for five minutes with him in the same room. I feel my anger slipping away, damn it.

  "I know. Let's just eat first." His eyes burn into mine; his fingers brush my hair off my shoulder, leaving a trail of fire.

  I'm toast.

  "Okay," I breathe out.

  Ryan goes back to our dinner. The smell overwhelms my little kitchen when he opens the first container. My mouth waters at the sight of the steaming ravioli, covered in red sauce and cheese.