The Deal Breaker

by Cat Carmine

  “I guess so.” Wes still won’t look up at me, but I swear I see his cheeks flush. Tyler flashes me a grin, and I get the strangest feeling that he’s taking the piss. I just can’t tell if he’s teasing me because he knows something I don’t, or if he’s teasing Wes. I sip my wine nervously and wish I could gulp the whole glass back without looking like a lush.

  “So how long have you and Wes known each other?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Since college,” he says. He elbows Wes. “This guy was the damn coolest back then.”

  Wes groans. “Oh, God, Tyler. Not this again.”

  Tyler chuckles. “Stop being modest. I think any woman you’re dating needs to understand just what she’s getting here.”

  I laugh. “Well, now you have to tell me.” The wine must be loosening me up already because I don’t even feel compelled to point out that Wes and I aren’t exactly dating.

  Tyler settles in, as if he’s preparing for a long tale. Wes is still shaking his head, but he’s fighting back a smile.

  “Amber, I think you’ll enjoy this story too,” Tyler says, but Amber glances up from her phone only long enough to roll her eyes. Tyler shrugs off her disinterest easily and turns back to me. “Okay, picture this. It’s the first day of college. Harvard. Everyone’s moving in to their dorms and it’s just this picture-perfect scene, with everyone’s rich parents dropping them off in their Explorers, right, kids in artfully ripped jeans that cost five hundred bucks a pair. Everyone kind of nervous but trying to look cool. I’m standing there outside the dormitory arguing with my mother about the fact that I don’t need this “bed in a bag” thing she bought for me because of course I’m seventeen and anything called bed in a bag seems like the epitome of uncool.”

  “Yes, because sleeping in comfort is for total losers,” Wes adds.

  “I said I was seventeen.”

  “You were an idiot.”

  “My point exactly. Anyway, we’re standing there and suddenly there’s this loud rumble. I mean, a roar. A car engine, but I’m talking about the dirtiest clunkiest engine you can imagine. This red Sunfire comes tearing around the corner and literally everyone in the area turned to watch it roll in. I’m sure half of us were just watching to see if the muffler was going to drop off before it came to a stop, but I digress.”

  Wes rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Dude, I couldn’t even hear my mom telling me all the reasons why I needed a bed in a bag. And you know how loud she is.”

  “Okay, I guess the care was kinda loud.” Wes cracks a smile. I can’t help but enjoy watching the interplay between them. It’s different seeing Wes with his friends, and I’ve never heard anything about his college life, so this is like a secret glimpse into where he went after ... well, after.

  “I remember that car,” I say, sipping my wine. “And yeah, it was loud.”

  Tyler grins triumphantly. “See? Thank you, Rori. Anyway, the closer he got, the more we realized it wasn’t just the muffler. This car was a literal piece of shit. Covered in mud, huge dent in the fender, and the passenger side door had been repainted in a color that only half-matched the original color.”

  “I liked that car,” Wes says wistfully.

  “I liked that car, too,” Tyler says. “We definitely had some good times in that bad boy. But it was the parents’ expressions that was just killing me. Everyone was staring, wondering who this bad ass in the beat-up Sunfire was. A good percentage of the girls were watching too, I’ll tell you that.”

  “He’s exaggerating,” Wes insists, but Tyler laughs.

  “No way, man.” He turns to me. “He’s just being modest. I’m sure even some of the moms were fanning themselves a little.”

  I snicker and look at Wes, whose face is bright red now. Somehow I can’t quite picture him in the bad boy role.

  “Anyway, as soon as he pulled up in front of the dorm and unfolded himself from that little car, I knew this guy was cool.”

  “You just thought I looked like I might be someone you could buy weed from.”

  Tyler laughs. “That too. Anyway, we all start rolling into the dorm. Me and Mom and my dad are carrying a shit ton of stuff — Mom’s still got that bed-in-a-bag bullshit, that I think she decided to buy at Target so she could feel like a regular suburban mother for once in her life — and this guy here just slings a backpack over his shoulder and takes the stairs two at a time. I swear my mom was panting a little, watching him go.”

  Wes’s cheeks flame even redder. “Shut-up Tyler. I can’t think about your mom that way.”

  “I don’t blame you. But that’s not the point. Anyway, we all get upstairs and Mom finds my room number, and who’s already lying there on one of the little twin beds, with his headphones in and staring up at the ceiling?”

  “You were roommates?” I glance back and forth between the two of them.

  “Yup. That year it was assigned, but the other years it was by choice. We lived together for our whole undergrad, before we went our separate ways.”

  “Wow, so you guys go back a long way.”

  “Yup. And get this ... my mom took pity on him because he had no parents there with him and no stuff, so what did she give him?”

  I snort, and glance over at Wes. This time he’s genuinely smiling.

  “Let me guess — the bed in a bag.”

  “Yeah. This fucker stole my own bedding right out from under me.”

  “I didn’t steal it. Your mom gave it to me willingly. And you didn’t want it.”

  “I was seventeen. What the fuck did I know? I was freezing that night.”

  “I gave you a blanket.”

  “You gave me a fucking pillow sham.”

  “It covered the essential areas.”

  Tyler shakes his head. “Essential areas, my ass.”

  “Exactly.”

  The mood around the table seems light now, and all my awkwardness is melting away. Seeing Wes with Tyler reminds me so much of how he was in high school — funny, sweet, a bit of a smart-ass, but still one of the good guys.

  “Anyway, that was just the beginning of Mom’s doting on Wes. After she found out about his home situation, I think he got more care packages than I did.”

  “Are we going to order soon, or what? Where’s that waitress?” Wes cuts him off abruptly. I look back and forth between him and Tyler. Tyler doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but I know Wes and I know that something just made him deeply uncomfortable. Was it the mention of Wes’s home situation? He’s let it slip a few times that he didn’t have much money growing up, but is that all Tyler meant? Or is there more to the story?

  As if on cue, the waitress appears at our table. She’s wearing a low-cut black silk top, and black wide-legged pants. She looks better dressed than I do. On Tyler’s recommendation, we order the Wagyu beef, with grilled asparagus and hasselback potatoes. Amber orders a green salad and a Bloody Mary. She still hasn’t turned away from her phone, and I wonder what kind of relationship she and Tyler have. He seems like a pretty great guy, but she’s hardly interested.

  By the time our food arrives, we’ve fallen into easy conversation. Tyler and Wes tell more stories about their college days, and I find myself laughing along with them.

  Through the stories, I see a lot of who Wes was in high school, but I also see the glimpses of the man he would go on to be. The ruthless dedication to his studies, the networking he did with Tyler. I think that maybe meeting Tyler opened his eyes to the kind of life that he wanted, and it was very different than the life he had in Highfield, Connecticut. I don’t know whether to be sad about that, that his dreams were so much bigger than mine, or happy for him because he’s achieved what he set out to do and be.

  Between those thoughts and the wine, I settle into a kind of melancholy haze, watching Wes and Tyler joke around. It takes me by surprise when Tyler looks at his watch and then elbows Amber, who’s barely participated in this conversation beyond the odd blank stare.

/>   “We should get going,” he announces. Amber bolts to her feet, as if she’s been waiting for this moment since she got here. Wes and I exchange a glance, and I stifle a giggle.

  We say our goodbyes, and I look around the restaurant, realizing how much it’s emptied out since we arrived. I’m a bit tipsy from the wine, and tired enough that I could easily crawl into bed right now, but the way Wes is looking at me jolts me awake and alert.

  “Can I interest you in another drink?” he asks. His hand is on my lower back again and my heart begins to race, already hammering in anticipation.

  Sixteen

  After Tyler leaves with Amber, I’m still not ready to say goodnight to Rori.

  “Can I interest you in another drink?” I ask, gesturing towards the bar as I put one hand on her lower back. I try not to look too hopeful, but it’s hard.

  Rori tenses. Her face twists wistfully, but then she shakes her head. “I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already had two glasses of wine.”

  “Afraid you might do something you regret?” I tease. Rori doesn’t laugh.

  “Yes.” Her voice is earnest. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ears, runs her tongue over her lips. She must have reapplied her lipstick at some point when I wasn’t looking, because they’re once again colored in the most flattering shade of light pink. She gazes up at me. “Well, not exactly regret but ... I think we both know what might happen if we have another drink. I don’t know if it would stop at kissing this time.”

  I swallow. Hard. Her words are so honest that they take me by surprise. She’s right, of course, but I guess part of me was secretly hoping that’s exactly what would happen. Contract be damned. Ever since the moment she’d stepped out of her apartment building wearing that dress, those shoes, looking the way she does and smiling at me so tentatively, like she wasn’t quite sure she was doing the right thing ... well, all I’d wanted to do was slide my hands up under the skirt of her dress, along her creamy thighs and to the warm spot between them. She looked perfect tonight. Absolutely perfect. And resisting her hadn’t gotten any easier as the night wore on.

  “I guess you’re right,” I say reluctantly. I still don’t want to let her go though. I’m not ready for this to be over. “Do you want to take a walk then? I could show you the rest of the grounds.”

  Rori smiles. “That sounds safe enough.”

  I hold out my elbow and she links her arm through it. The feel of her small hand on my forearm sends a jolt through me. Christ. Why, even after all these years, does she still have this effect on me? There’s an entire planet’s worth of women out there, and yet Rori is the only one who’s ever been able to elicit this kind of response from me. It isn’t physical either — or at least, it isn’t just physical. There’s something about her that awakens every part of me. My senses feel brighter, sharper. My brain feels more alert. My heart seems to pick up a slightly different rhythm. It’s like seeing color for the first time after living in a world of black and white.

  In order to keep myself from scooping her off her feet and carrying her to my car, I instead force myself to start walking. I lead her not out the front doors we came in through, but down the hall and towards the back, where a huge pavilion overlooks the golf course. The view is breathtaking, and I’d been struck by it myself the first time I came out here, a couple of weeks ago when Tyler had invited me out for drinks at the bar. In New York, it’s rare to see this much green, unless you happen to have a view overlooking Central Park. And now, with the sun setting, the green of the golf course is set off by the blazing pinks and oranges of the sky, by the smell and feel of twilight coming fast upon us.

  “Wow.” Rori stops walking as we get to the edge of the pavilion. There are stone benches lining the edge of the patio area, and I think about stopping with her here, but there’s something else I want to show her first.

  “Come with me,” I say. My voice sounds huskier than normal, even to my ears, but I chalk it up to too much scotch. Rori’s arm is still linked through mine, and she lets me lead her off the pavilion and down a stone path that skirts the golf course.

  We walk in silence, though somehow it doesn’t feel at all awkward. It’s companionable, and for a second I have the strangest mental image — of Rori and I in our seventies, taking our evening constitutional after a dinner out. I picture her with grey hair, lines around her eyes and mouth, me with a beard made up of silver bristles. The image makes my stomach flipflop and I push it away. What an odd thing to think about. Maybe I can chalk that up to too much scotch too.

  I hear the water lapping softly before we actually come upon the pond. It’s technically part of the golf course — one of the lateral water hazards — but right now we’re on the far side of it, nestled in a grove of trees. Tyler had shown me this spot on our first tour. And yes, he may have mentioned that it made a nice spot if you ever needed to get a lady alone. Even though it has a path leading up to it, almost no one seems to come out this way. Most people seem to stick to the main path and simply go between the main building, the club house, the golf course, and the spa. But me, I like these little hidden gems. And I like being alone with Rori, out of sight of the rest of the club.

  “Wow,” Rori says again. I think that’s the only thing she’s said since we came outside. I sneak a glance at her as she gazes out over the water. It’s a surprisingly large pond, and on both sides of it, the grass is emerald green and perfectly groomed. On our side only, there’s a thatch of trees. Willow trees, mostly, the kind that hang down dramatically, draping around us and giving off the feel of a romantic southern city.

  “Not such a bad place, is it? I mean, aside from all the rich snobs.”

  Rori laughs. “No, I suppose it’s not so bad at all. I can see why you’d want to be a member.”

  She’s standing beside me, still looking out at the water. I sneak another glance at her profile, and find her face relaxed, thoughtful. There’s something wistful in her eyes, but I imagine that’s the pull of the natural beauty of the place. I feel an urge to wrap my arm around her waist, pull her close to me, but I fight it off. I don’t want to do anything to ruin the moment, and Rori pulling away and running back to the clubhouse would definitely ruin the moment.

  I force myself to take my eyes off her and focus on the lake. It really is beautiful out here.

  “So you and Tyler have been friends a long time,” she says, breaking the silence.

  I tense. I’m not sure where she’s going with this. “Yeah. Since college.”

  “Technically, I’ve known you longer.”

  I grin. “Yes, technically you have.”

  “But I still don’t feel like I know you.” She turns to face me, and her expression is serious. I swallow.

  “Not a lot of people do,” I say.

  She nods, as if this makes perfect sense. “And Tyler?”

  I shrug, look out at the pond again. “He knows some parts of me.”

  “The parts you let him know.”

  Her words cut through me. It’s an incisive observation, but then Rori has always been perceptive.

  “Yes.” No point in lying.

  “What about me?”

  I turn to face her. Her hazel eyes are earnest, if a little unsure, but she holds herself steady, shoulders back.

  “What do you mean?” I feel like there’s a lump in my throat.

  “What parts do I know?”

  I shrug. It’s reflexive. “More than most.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way. Sometimes it feels like I never really knew you at all.”

  She says this quietly, without any accusation. Like it’s a simple statement of fact. I could point out that our contract makes this kind of discussion strictly verboten, but I don’t. Instead I do something else that’s not supposed to be allowed. I pull her into my arms.

  She gasps a little as my hands slide around her waist, and as I pull her so that she’s pressed against my body. I can feel her heat already, even through the suit I’m wearing
. Her curves nestle perfectly against me, and even though she puts her hands against my chest, it’s more for balance than to push me away. For a minute I hold her like that. Both of us just breathing and looking into each other’s eyes. The sun is almost completely set now, but there’s enough light left in the sky for me to make out the fine features of her face, the way her eyebrows knit, the way her perfect pink lips part, the way her chest rises and falls against me.

  I lean in and kiss her. It’s gentle at first, a sweep of my lips across hers. A graze. A glance. She’s just as tentative, moving her lips only lightly against mine. Both of us are hesitant. Uncertain. My body feels like a tight coil, kinetic energy ready to explode, but I move as if the opposite was true. As if I had all the time in the world, as if I had the unwavering belief that this is the right thing to do.

  The truth is, I don’t. I have no idea if I’m not completely fucking everything up. All I know is that there’s a part of me that wants this, that needs this as much as I need air and water.

  And slowly, slowly, slowly, it happens. The kiss unfurls. Rori leans in closer. Her lips press harder against mine, parting. My hands slide to the back of her head, my fingers twining themselves through the neat twist of her hair. She lets out the softest of moans, and then my tongue is in her mouth. Tasting her, tempting her, toying with her. And she gives as good as she gets. Her tongue caresses mine, her breasts press against my chest. Her hands have moved to my back and I can feel them stroking my muscles through the fabric of my shirt. I suddenly want to shrug off my jacket, rip off this shirt and let her feel my skin against hers — but I’m guessing the club has rules against that.

  Not that our own contract would allow for it either. But our contract doesn’t allow kissing either and it doesn’t seem like either of us are too concerned about that at the moment. No, in this particular moment, this feels like the exact right thing to be doing. Kissing Rori feels like the thing I was born to do.