Even though it’s still early in the season, the days have been balmy and beautiful since I got back from Cabo. I’ve been in such a funk since losing both Aiden and Kyle all over again in the span of twenty-four hours, that the amazing weather has pretty much been my only saving grace. When we walk out into the evening sunshine and I feel the warm breeze blowing against my bare arms, I can’t help but feel lifted up by it.
Tip-off isn’t until seven, but the bar is already well on its way to being packed by the time we get there. Beatrix aggressively forces her way through the swarm to a high top table in the center, and Harumi and I wade along behind her. The waitress who comes to take our drink orders is all business, clearly a well-weathered expert when it comes to handling a crowd.
We watch the pre-game coverage while we split a plate of nachos. I don’t eat much; my appetite has been sorely lacking for the past couple of weeks. By half past six the energy in the room is at fever pitch, and Beatrix starts complaining she can’t hear the announcer on the television. Harumi holds up her phone in response and shouts over the ruckus, “There’s a chick I know from class who’s having a party. She lives a few miles out – we could take the bus.”
Beatrix scrunches her nose. “I don’t wanna impose,” she says, still looking around crossly at all the drunk co-eds.
“There’ll be alcohol,” Harumi adds.
Beatrix snorts. “You’re such an enabler. All right, lead the way.”
Kyle – Saturday, 6:45 PM
Somebody’s knocking on my bedroom door. At first the knocking weaves itself into my dream, which of course involves Tawny – it’s getting to a point where I can’t exactly remember the last time I fell asleep and didn’t dream about her. Before I’m fully awake, I imagine it’s her at the door and she’s here to tell me she wants to be with me. When I finally snap back into a state of wakefulness, my heart is pounding, and I’m pretty pissed at the interruption.
I nearly slip on a dirty sock on my floor in my hurry to make it to the door. I’m surprised when I pull the door open and see Les standing on the other side of it, his fist raised in preparation for another round of knocking.
“What the hell, man?” I say as I step back to let him in. “You just walk in my house now without even ringing the doorbell?”
“Shelley let me in,” he says. He gives me a funny look. “Were you sleeping?”
“I was taking a nap, yeah,” I reply, unable to keep the defensive edge out of my voice. “Is that a problem?”
He crosses his arms over his chest as he sighs. Not a good sign. “What’s your deal, dude?”
“What do you mean what’s my deal?”
“You’ve been avoiding me all week at the gym, you made up some lame excuse about not hanging out last night, and now you’re avoiding my calls so you can nap through a Saturday night.”
Inwardly I groan. The last thing I want to do right now is make up some bullshit excuse for my fucked up behavior so Les will feel like he’s fulfilled his obligation as “concerned friend.” I open my mouth as I mentally frame my response, but he beats me to it.
“Is this about Tawny Read?”
…I’m having trouble remembering how to speak. Where the hell did that come from?
“Is what about Tawny Read?” I ask slowly, testing the waters.
“Whatever this is,” replies Les as he gestures at my unkempt room and disheveled appearance. “You saw her in Cabo, right? You’ve been acting like a complete psycho ever since then.”
I swallow. “What do you know about it?”
“First of all, I saw her when we were getting ready to go horseback riding that day. It wasn’t hard to piece together how you felt about it from the way you got all quiet on us the rest of the afternoon. Then I heard Macary talking about some girl who showed up at your room and figured that was her.”
I look down at the ground without saying anything. I can’t even think where to begin.
“Do you like her?” Les asks after a moment of quiet.
I force out a deep sigh and stumble backward, dropping onto the edge of my sagging mattress, then hang my head and comb my hand through my hair. “Yeah,” I croak. “Well, no – I mean… I’m in pretty deep, man.”
I chance a glance up at him; he seems surprised, but he doesn’t look as if he’s poised to start in on it like I thought he would. “Shit, dude,” he says as he sits down in my desk chair and swivels around to face me. “You’re a goner, huh?” I look back down at the floor and nod. In a way it feels good to get it off my chest, but I’m also wary of what he might do next.
“She know this?”
I shrug. “We haven’t really gotten that far, her having a boyfriend and everything. I wanted to tell her when we got back, but last time I bumped into her down in Cabo she seemed really closed off, and she hasn’t called me like she said she would.”
Les slumps back in the chair and clicks his tongue. “Tawny Read,” he muses, shaking his head. A moment later: “She’s hot, I’ll grant you that one.”
I decide not to dignify his inane comment with a response; I just continue to stare at the floor between my feet. Clearly I don’t need to be told how attractive she is, inside or out.
“So what are you gonna do?” he asks finally. “You can’t just stay holed up in your house forever.”
I scrub at my face with my hands. I’d been thinking the same thing myself, but for some reason I hate hearing the words coming from Les’s mouth. It makes me feel even more pathetic knowing he views me that way, too. “Nothing,” I tell him after a minute. “I’m not gonna do anything.” I ball a discarded t-shirt up in my hand and toss it back against the wall. “She’s too good for me – she knows it, I know it. End of story.”
I’m caught off-guard when Les reaches over and slaps me on the back of my shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself, man. Don’t put yourself down. You’re a talented, funny guy – and thanks to me whipping your ass into shape, you’re not bad looking either. So don’t sell yourself short.”
His words feel empty to me, but I appreciate them just the same. I nod in acknowledgement of his effort, but I’m pretty sure he can tell I’m not buying it. Thankfully, instead of trying again, he stands up. “Come on, Freeman. The NCAA championship is on, and you may not be aware, but your roommate’s throwing a party.”
Tawny – Saturday, 7:00 PM
The bus drops us off next to the gas station Kyle took me to for milk when we shared that package of Oreos back in August. I’m not all that familiar with this part of town, but I know Kyle lives nearby, and that fact alone is enough to set me on edge.
“It’s this way,” says Harumi, glancing at her phone before motioning down the street I know he lives on. My mouth goes dry as I hesitantly walk behind my two roommates.
“Hurry, or we’ll miss tip-off!” says Beatrix. Harumi picks up her pace; meanwhile, I can no longer feel the bottoms of my own feet touching the ground. It’s like I have PTSD and I’m suffering from a particularly vivid flashback. When Harumi turns up the driveway where Kyle’s Jeep is parked amid several other vehicles, I think I must be dreaming. I don’t even realize I’ve come to a dead stop until both girls turn back around and look at me like I’m crazy.
“Kyle lives here,” I say quietly. Beatrix cocks her head to the side as if she has no idea what I’m talking about, but Harumi’s expression turns sympathetic.
“He must be Shelley’s roommate?” Harumi says.
Shelley… Yeah, I think that was her name. I nod.
“We don’t have to go inside,” she says, as she doubles back to stand beside me. “Believe me, Tawny – I had no idea.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine.” I stand up straighter and roll my shoulders back. “Not a big deal.”
Kyle – Saturday, 7:00 PM
Shelley and I get along really well as roommates, but we don’t mix company very much. If I’d had my act together we probably would’ve gone to Nick’s apartment or Hank’s to watch the game, but as of n
ow it’s all I can do just to throw on a clean shirt and walk down the hall to the other end of my own house. I’ve been so disconnected from the world at large, I don’t even know who’s playing – not that I’d admit it out loud.
I’m surprised at how packed the living room is – I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people stuffed inside our house at one time. Les follows me past the crowd and into the kitchen. Shelley’s stocked the refrigerator with plenty of beer, so I grab a Heineken for each of us and pry off the lids before handing one to Les.
Back in the living room, Les stands with one hand shoved in his pocket as he sips his beer and watches the two teams (Purdue versus San Diego State) vie for possession of the ball. I watch for a moment as Purdue dribbles the ball up court and scores the first points of the game, but quickly grow antsy and start looking around. Most of the faces I don’t recognize – but one I sure as hell do.
I shoulder Les in the arm. “Did you know she was gonna be here?” I ask, working to keep my voice low and neutral even though I’m anything but. I nod toward the corner where Tawny is standing behind her much shorter Japanese roommate, looking like she wants to disappear.
“Who?” Les scans the room; he pauses when his eyes settle on her, and he emits an amused chuckle that makes me want to slap him across the back of the head. “Oh, shit,” he says. “No dude, I swear I didn’t know. Goddamn, what are the odds, right? You guys must be meant for each other.”
I roll my eyes, not really believing he didn’t somehow set this up. I hazard another glance over at the corner; the roommate has drifted off, but Tawny remains rooted to the spot, her eyes still on the TV.
“Why don’t you just go talk to her,” says Les. He follows up his statement with a fist pump and a “YES!” as everyone else hoots in celebration of a three pointer for the Aztecs. God, I really am not in the mood to hang out with a bunch of overzealous sports fans tonight – especially not with my stomach in my throat while I stare longingly at Tawny Read.
I look at Les, but his eyes haven’t migrated from the flat screen. Okay… Enough, I think. The way Tawny and I keep taking turns ignoring each other is getting to be beyond ridiculous.
Inhaling a deep breath of air, I stand up and start walking around the back of the couch. I’ll admit I’m terrified of seeming too intense and scaring her off. Just be cool, I tell myself. Just play it cool.
Tawny – Saturday, 7:15 PM
“Hey, what’s up?”
Goosebumps spread like wildfire along my arms and the back of my neck as part of a conditioned response to that voice. When I turn around and see Kyle standing in front of me, I feel like I’ve been struck with a bolt of lightning. I stand there gaping at him for maybe a couple of seconds, but the emotions that inundate me in that short span of time make it feel closer to an hour.
My first thought is, Really? What’s up? On the surface it’s an innocent enough way to start a conversation, but paired with his expression of complete and utter nonchalance it suddenly seems far from appropriate. How can he address me that way, after everything we’ve been through? Why is it so easy for him to pretend none of it has even happened? For God’s sake, it’s only been seventeen days since he stopped my drunk boyfriend from crossing a line you can’t step back behind. Sure, he may have played the part of concerned rescuer that night and the following morning, but I can count on one hand the number of hours that elapsed before I was reminded yet again of his playboy ways. And now, apparently I don’t even merit any warmth or sincerity from him. Who the hell does he think he is to treat me like just another girl at just another party? Why don’t you ask me a question with an answer that actually matters?
The anger builds so quickly it comes spilling out of me as a bitter laugh. “Oh, ya know, not much,” I reply, keeping my tone light in a way I hope he’ll understand is sarcastic. I end up just sounding deranged.
He frowns. Kyle has never directed a frown at me before – it makes me feel a bit remorseful, but at the same time it further fuels my anger and sets my teeth to grinding.
“What’s with the attitude?” he asks.
Oh my God, this can’t be happening. Rolling my eyes, I deliberately turn to face away from him, redirecting my attention to the basketball game. He places a hand firmly on my shoulder, but I twist away from his reach. “Don’t touch me,” I spit at him.
He drops his hand but takes a step closer to me. “I just came over here to talk to you,” he says. “What the hell is your problem?”
Never in my life have I felt compelled to really hit someone – until now. My hand curls into a fist as I turn back around to look at him, but I’m held back by my dim awareness of the fact we aren’t alone.
His mouth is drawn into a tight line, but his forehead has smoothed out some. Instead of looking angry, now he just looks confused. “Come talk to me,” he says lowly in my ear. Having him so close causes a shiver to riffle up my spine – I hate my body for always betraying me when he’s around.
I turn my face toward him a few inches, until his lips are a breath away from touching my cheek. “No thanks,” I say, somehow managing to keep my tone cool and unaffected.
He lays a hand against my lower back and presses his thumb into the dimple at the base of my spine. “Quit acting like a child,” he growls; I can just barely feel his nose skimming along the shell of my ear as he speaks. “It’s the least you can do.”
Blood pounds in my ears and causes me to see red. I know he’s trying to provoke me; he’s counting on the fact I won’t want to cause a scene, putting me in a position where I’ll have no choice but to follow him somewhere else. Holy God, I do not want to give him the satisfaction, but I don’t have it in me to shrug off his hurtful words either.
Finally I step past him and walk purposefully toward the hallway; I can feel him behind me. I pause at the bathroom door – the door is shut, and a light shines from beneath it. Damn. I’d hoped to avoid going to his bedroom.
Kyle catches up to me and herds me toward the familiar doorway at the end of the hall on the left. Once we’re both inside his room he shuts the door behind us. The flood of memories from the last time we spent together in this room is almost too much to bear. Taking a deep breath, I whirl around to pin him with an icy stare, but my breath gets caught in my throat when I see him watching me with his arms crossed over his chest.
UGH, why does he have to be so good looking? My irritation momentarily forgotten, I take a step toward him, yearning to touch him. I only just manage to catch myself, grinding to a halt less than a foot away from him.
Kyle drops his arms to his sides, but he doesn’t back down as he stares at me. I can feel him channeling the same anger coursing through my own veins right back at me – makes me I wish I could understand what he’s so irate about. My anger swirls together with my need for him to touch me; I try hard not to feel bowled over by the vortex ripping through my heart and mind.
And then, suddenly, his lips are on mine. He hauls me up against him as if I can’t possibly get close enough and covers my mouth with passionate kisses. I give myself over to carnal instinct as I slide my hands beneath his shirt and forcefully tug the fabric up; Kyle breaks the contact between our lips only long enough to rip it the rest of the way off.
A moment later, with tears stinging the backs of my eyes, I take a step backward and cross my wrists at my hips, clutching at the hem of my own t-shirt. I begin to lift it, but Kyle latches his fingers around my forearms to arrest my movement. His gaze drills into me with white-hot intensity, and for half a second I can almost imagine him walking away and leaving me here, but then he loosens his grip and helps me to jerk my shirt over my head. He prods me backward until the backs of my legs bump into the mattress behind me, and I topple backwards onto the comforter.
Kyle crawls over the top of me, covering my body with his, but he remains tensed a few inches above as if he’s afraid to actually touch me. We’re both breathing so hard, and as I watch him I can feel a hot tear leaking out from
the corner of my eye and rolling down the side of my face. I can’t help but simultaneously love and hate what we do to each other.
I begin to move, lifting my arms to reach up and touch Kyle’s face, but he grabs both my wrists in one of his hands and lowers them to the mattress above my head in a way that’s firm but gentle. Even though I can tell he’s angry, his actions don’t frighten me the way Aiden’s had. Even through my fury and hurt, I still innately trust him.
“Tell me why you don’t want to be with me,” he rasps, his voice thick with demand and, surprisingly, emotion.
I squirm beneath him, concurrently itching to both slap him and kiss him. A harsh sob escapes me, but I hold the tears at bay. “Because I’m not that kind of girl,” I snap.
From the look on Kyle’s face you’d think I just sucker punched right him in the gut. His disconsolate expression morphs into a hardened mask. “And what kind of girl is that?” he snarls.
“What do you think? The kind who can act fine with you fooling around with whomever you want, any time you want. The kind who’s okay with never just being enough for you.”
His eyes darken. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games with me, Kyle. I may not know everything that’s happened with you and Macary, but I know enough. You kissed her right before you swore to me there was nothing going on between you!”
Suddenly he lets go of my wrists and holds himself in pushup stance with his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of my face. “Yeah, I fucking kissed her,” he says, injecting venom into each word. “Because I was trying like hell to keep from thinking about you.”
I tense beneath him, my body humming with the weight of what he’s just admitted. “Why were you thinking about me?” I ask, my tone laced with suspicion.
Forever With You (Silver State Series) Page 29
