“Sorry! I’ll try not to forget. But you have to admit, I called it about the moving thing. Called it the very first day you showed me her profile.” Paul smirked.
“Yes. You’re a very clever boy. You deserve a cookie.”
“You gonna bake me cookies?” His face lit up in a hopeful grin.
“Nope.” Jamie slapped her hand playfully against the back of his head. “I’m going to carry Claire’s boxes, help her settle in, and take her someplace really nice for dinner. Maybe lobster at that place down by the water.”
“Okay, so that’s your plan, then?”
“What’s my plan? What do I need a plan for?”
“Your plan for wooing Claire, Girly. Should we call it Operation Wine and Dine?”
“Absolutely not. But yeah, it's been working so far, I guess. She sure sends Jay a lot of emails, though.”
“I thought Jay was breaking up with Claire.”
“He is. He will.” Jamie shrugged. “It's just that I was afraid if it happened before she got here, she might change her mind.”
“I think she would have come anyway.”
“Maybe. When I took her for lunch in the garden I kind of thought… well, I don’t know.”
“She likes you,” Paul said with a singsong lilt.
Jamie shook her head. “I don't know. But if I take her to some nice dinners, go sailing, show her around town, stuff like that… maybe.” Jamie hopped down the front steps and crossed the expanse of green grass. “Hi, Claire!” she called out. “Welcome!”
“Jamie! Paul! I’m so excited I finally made it!” Claire attempted to wave but stopped when the box in her arms tipped precariously to one side.
“Here, let me get that,” Paul said, coming to her rescue. “This thing weighs a ton! What do you have in here?”
Claire laughed. “Books, probably. They’re mostly books. Some for work, some for pleasure, plus a few cookbooks I couldn’t live without.”
“Cookbooks, huh?” Paul repeated, his face brightening. “I don’t suppose you like to bake, do you, new roomie? Cookies, maybe?”
“As a matter of fact,” Claire replied, “I do, and I make awesome cookies. Just not in the scorching heat. But when it gets colder, maybe. It does get colder, right?” Claire added, fanning herself.
Paul chuckled, “Girl, you are going to regret wishing away this heat in a couple of months, trust me.”
“Claire, why don’t you let Paul earn those cookies you've promised by carrying your boxes inside? I'll show you your new room.”
Jamie led the way through the front door and up the staircase to the second floor. “This is where Paul’s room is,” she said, pointing down the hall. “In fact, this floor is basically his. He’s got an office across from his room, and a bathroom and darkroom next to that. His grandmother set it up for him when he first started showing an interest in photography. He doesn’t use it anymore since his work is all digital, but if you ever see the door closed, make sure you knock.”
Claire nodded, looking around admiringly. “Is that original Lincrusta on the walls in the stairwell and hallway?”
“Wow,” Jamie said, “you really know your old houses, don’t you? Yes, it’s original. So are most of the light fixtures. Paul found them in the basement and had them restored.” She pointed up the stairs. “The stained glass on the second floor landing was salvaged from another house in town that was torn down. There would’ve been stained glass there originally, but someone had taken it out years ago and replaced it with a plain window.”
“Who would do that?” Claire asked, clearly horrified.
Jamie laughed. “I know. I felt the same way, but they did it for the view. You’ll see what I mean when we go upstairs.” Jamie started up the stairs to the third floor and Claire followed.
“Wow.” Claire inhaled sharply at the sight of the vast Atlantic that was framed by the window on the third floor landing. She watched with wide eyes as waves crashed against sharp rocks and seagulls swooped above the spray.
Jamie grinned. “Awesome, right? We’re not actually as close as we look. There are two or three streets between us and the beach, but we’re on a little hill so you can’t see the other rooftops from up here.”
“Is that a beach?” Claire asked, pointing toward the water.
“Not really, so don’t get too excited. It’s rocky and there isn’t any access from the seawall. Trust me, if we were as close to the water as it looks from here, and that was a sandy beach down there, Paul would have sold the place for millions and retired to Florida or something.”
Claire laughed. “It doesn’t matter. The view is spectacular.”
“Well, wait until you see the one from your room. It’s down here,” Jamie said, leading the way. “Mine is behind us, at the far end of the hall, and yours is right through there.”
Claire peered through the open door and squealed in excitement. “Really? This is mine?”
She dashed into the center of the room, spinning to take in every detail. The room was semi-circular in shape, with walls painted a soft, buttery yellow and a ceiling of exposed wooden beams. It was furnished simply with an iron bed and a waterfall dresser and nightstand. There was no artwork on the walls, nor was any needed with such a view. All along the curved outer wall, large windows draped in simple lace curtains revealed a coastal panorama.
Claire looked at Jamie, eyes shining. “Are you sure? This must be the best room in the house!”
“The view is amazing, but it has some drawbacks. It’s the coldest room in the winter, and no matter what Paul does, the Wi-Fi in here is awful.”
“That’s okay,” Claire responded with a smile. “It’ll be worth it. I can’t believe I get to stay in the tower room. I’ve always dreamed of a room like this!”
“I’m glad you like it! Why don’t you get settled in and later on I’ll take you to dinner at the lobster shack over by the pier.” Jamie noticed the smile fade from Claire’s face. “What's wrong, not a fan of lobster?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, I’ve had a really long trip and I don’t think I’ll feel up for going anywhere.” Claire's reassurance sounded less than convincing.
“Um, sure, of course,” Jamie said, feeling deflated. She had been looking forward to another night out with Claire for weeks. She hadn’t counted on being turned down, and she instinctively worried that Claire was trying to keep her distance by refusing. “I could make something for dinner—for all of us,” Jamie quickly amended, hoping that including Paul would put Claire at ease.
“Well, I guess that would be okay. But I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow, and take a turn making dinner, too. I’m not going to be that roommate everyone hates who takes advantage, I swear. I’m used to being self-sufficient. You’ll hardly know I’m here.”
Jamie doubted that Claire could be in the same state without her realizing it, let alone the same house, but Claire’s words gave her hope. Perhaps the sudden distance Jamie sensed wasn’t personal, after all, and Claire was just trying to be conscientious. Besides, there would be plenty of time to spend together once Claire was settled in.
* * *
As the weeks stretched on, however, it soon became clear that Claire was avoiding being alone with Jamie. There was no other explanation. She worked late almost every night, or else disappeared into her room as soon as she came home. By the beginning of October, Jamie had to admit that it really was like Claire wasn’t there.
One evening as Jamie sat at her computer, the Tech Cupid chat window popped open. Jamie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Claire's smiling avatar.
Claire: How's Antarctica?
Jamie knew she shouldn’t respond. That was part of her grand plan, after all, to have Jay go away for good. She ignored the message that night and even for the next few days, but the longer Claire remained absent, the more the temptation grew. By Friday night, the crack in Jamie’s resolve was as wide as the Grand Canyon. Just a quick response wouldn’t hurt, right?
<
br /> Jay: Can't complain. You?
At least Jamie could find out how Claire was doing this way. Make sure she was okay. A brief chat, a few words here and there, was all she would allow herself. And nothing remotely flirtatious. But with a few strict rules in place, she decided that it was worth the risk. Claire was like a drug to Jamie, and she had to get her fix somehow, even if by doing it she was digging herself deeper into the lie.
Jay: How’s your new job?
Claire: Not so great.
Jamie wasn't surprised. Claire worked too hard. She hardly had time to relax. Jamie knew Claire was ambitious in her career, but everyone needed a break sometimes. Maybe Jay can convince her to take some time for herself, Jamie thought.
Jay: I know you want to earn tenure as quickly as you can, but you need rest, too.
Claire: I have a confession. I told everyone the position is tenure track, but it's not. I just didn't want my sister to know I gave up a more secure job in Portland to move here. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe I should have gone to England instead.
Jamie's heart sank. Poor Claire. She'd had no idea about the job. She felt a little thrill at the thought that Claire had shared this secret with her. Then guilt flooded through her. Claire had given up her job security, and it was Jamie's fault. She’d been so excited to find out Claire was moving that she'd never thought to question what she was giving up. Her job. Her family. All to be with her. Or, well, with Jay. But it was almost the same thing, right? Even so, Jamie felt the familiar stab of jealousy where her alter ego was concerned. The temptation to sabotage Jay was overwhelming.
Jay: England's overrated.
Jamie grinned wickedly at the words on her screen. Claire was such an anglophile that a sentiment like that was bound to drop Jay a peg or two in her eyes. There was no way she'd want to be with someone who felt that way about her favorite place in the world. Jamie settled against a pillow on her bed and survey her room, wondering if she could find some of the t-shirts and other souvenirs from her grad school days in the UK. After Jay's slight, the sight of them should make Claire swoon.
It was well after midnight when Jamie woke with a start. She’d dozed off on top of her blanket and shivered in the chilly night air. Her laptop was beside her on the bed. The chat window had been idle long enough that the screen had faded to darkness, extinguishing the only light in Jamie’s room. Despite her best intentions, she’d spent much longer than she should have chatting with Claire. Or, rather, reading what Claire wrote. Once she got started, Claire had written enough for both of them. The words had poured onto the screen, and Jamie couldn’t tear herself away.
Jay: How are you getting along with Paul? And Jamie?
Even as Jamie had typed the words, she knew she was tempting fate. It was like eavesdropping on a conversation after hearing someone say your name. Nothing good was likely to come of it. But she knew Claire would confide in Jay, and she had to know if Claire was avoiding her. Did she suspect how strongly Jamie felt about her? Did it make Claire feel uncomfortable but she was too polite to say so?
But, no! Claire had written page after page about how great Jamie was. It was enough to make her blush.
Jamie never would have guessed Claire felt like that if she hadn’t read it in her own words, but there it was in black and white. It warmed her to know what Claire was really thinking, but at the same time it magnified her own duplicity. She would never have known any of this if she wasn’t pretending to be Jay. Jamie sighed deeply. She wanted so badly to be rid of of her alias, but until she could figure out how to get Claire to confide in her as herself, Jay would have to stay.
She swung her legs to the floor, searching for a pair of slippers before wandering down to the kitchen for a late night snack. Her stomach growled. Stress always brought out the need for a snack. Passing through the living room, Jamie glimpsed Claire curled up, asleep, on the couch. Her laptop was open on the coffee table, its screen as dark as the one upstairs. A tangle of chestnut curls was splayed temptingly across a throw pillow, as if beckoning Jamie’s fingers to play in their silky strands. Jamie sighed, mustering every ounce of self control to keep her hands by her sides.
Claire shifted at the sound of Jamie's sigh, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. It was even colder downstairs than it had been in Jamie’s room. Jamie considered waking her, but thought better of the impulse. It would probably spook her. And why wouldn’t it? What straight girl wouldn’t freak out to realize that her lesbian roommate was staring at her in her sleep, fantasizing about touching her hair? Hell, it would freak her out if she even suspected some girl was doing that to her while she slept. Unless it was Claire. Then it would be kind of hot.
Stop it, Jamie, she reprimanded herself. Stop fantasizing and walk away. You’re about an inch away from turning into a creepy stalker.
She grabbed a worn quilt from the window seat and placed it gently over Claire's sleeping form, willing her not to wake up because if she did, Jamie knew the raw honesty and desire emblazoned on her face right now would frighten Claire away in a heartbeat, no matter how many nice things she had written about her to Jay.
Jamie ran her fingers across her scalp, digging her nails deep into the skin. She tugged at a fistful of hair, as if the action might yield a solution to this impossible situation. Perhaps if she pulled hard enough, she could yank the thoughts of Claire from her brain and finally have the strength to walk away. She sighed as she slowly climbed the stairs to her room. How was she ever going to get out from under this deception?
12
Claire sat on the sofa in the mid-morning sunlight, a cup of coffee warming her fingertips and a faded quilt stretched out across her lap. It was the same quilt she had found tucked around her when she awoke just after dawn, her laptop in sleep mode beside her.
The computer had revived from its sleep a lot faster than she had from hers, displaying her conversation with Jay from the night before with much more brightness and energy than Claire herself could muster. That conversation had been cathartic, yet less than satisfying. She had poured her heart out on the screen about all the things that had been bothering her, and that felt really good. She’d also said more than she meant to about Jamie. Intelligent. Witty. Beautiful. Had she really typed all those words? Claire's stomach clenched. Jamie was supposed to be her roommate, not the object of a school girl crush.
No, strike that. Crush was not the right word. Claire couldn’t quite put her finger on what a better word would be, but that one was definitely not it. Better watch it, or there will be rumors starting for sure. She could hear Aunt Marisol chastising her inside her head. She could feel her own rebellion brewing, too. No good would come of it.
Think about Jay. Jay’s the one you’re supposed to have a crush on.
The problem was that thinking of Jay was becoming less helpful lately. Jay was getting on her nerves. Or rather his absence was. He was starting to feel more like an imaginary friend than a potential boyfriend. Sometimes, like last night, it was like she was writing in her diary instead of chatting with a man she was supposed to be in love with.
No, not supposed to be in love with. Am in love with. Am.
It’s just that their conversations were so one-sided now. None of this was going the way she’d intended. Not the job, not the move, not the boyfriend. Not the way her pulse ticked up and her stomach fluttered every time Jamie entered the room.
As if on cue, Jamie ambled in from the kitchen, a steaming mug in one hand. She wore a thin gray tank top emblazoned with a faded Union Jack flag. Claire couldn't help but smile when she saw it. Then she remembered the way Jay had dismissed her dream of moving to England in their overnight chat. It was silly, but it bothered her much more than it should have. She'd always thought that it was something she and Jay had in common, and now she felt more than a little disappointed.
Jamie stretched her long arms high above her head, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the outline of her shapely breasts, before settling into the chair acros
s from Claire. The same chair the two of them had shared over the summer, Claire recalled—their bodies welded together from shoulders to toes. The memory caused Claire to squirm, twisting the faded quilt in her hands. She was tempted to fold up the quilt and put it away.
It had suddenly gotten very warm. As Jamie stretched again, cat-like in her sunny chair, the tank top shifted slightly to reveal the smooth white skin around Jamie’s belly button, with a tiny freckle that looked like a speck of chocolate. Claire wondered if she pressed her tongue against it, would it taste like chocolate?
Wait, what?
She felt a stab of panic. Where had that thought even come from? She needed more sleep. There was something seriously wrong with her brain right now. This was all Jay’s fault, with his research trip and his stupid penguins. If he had been in Boston where he was supposed to be, Claire would not even be in Cape Ann in the first place, and would not be blushing over the memory of a chair and being distracted by tank tops that were too small and did not cover what they were intended to cover.
All Jay’s fault.
“Did you sleep okay?” Jamie inquired, eying the quilt on Claire’s lap.
“Oh, um, not really,” Claire responded, stopping for a sip of coffee to alleviate her suddenly very dry throat. “Were you the one that gave me the blanket?”
Jamie nodded.
“Oh.” Claire toyed with the corner of the quilt, an image in her mind of Jamie holding it in her hands, putting it around her as she slept. Watching her in the moonlight with those feline green eyes of hers.
God, it gets warm in here once the sun comes up. She was deliriously tired right now, incapable of reining thoughts that were rapidly straying into very dangerous territory. Claire knew the safest thing would be to leave the room and go upstairs, but she wanted to stay. She was tired of leaving the room when Jamie came in, of feeling trapped upstairs like a princess in her tower.
Telling Lies Online Page 9
