While You're Away

by Jessa Holbrook

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Did I?

  Shifting, Dave slid closer to me. Leaning over his knees, he let his hands dangle between them. The faint light flashed off his thumb ring. The silver was duller now than it had been freshman year but richer. Even now, he idly spun it, like it was a totem. I don’t know why it mesmerized me all of a sudden. It just caught my eye and I couldn’t look away.

  Or maybe I was watching his hands. They were so talented on a guitar. Deft and careful with his restoration work. Animated when he talked. Rough and callused from hard work and hard play, they were strangely beautiful. The ring set them off.

  With a smile in his voice, Dave teased, “Sarah, didn’t you pay attention in physics? Time and space are the same dimension. You’re only as far away from something as you want to be.”

  Raising my head, I looked at him. Really looked at him. There had been a time once, when I’d been afraid to let him touch me. He’d wanted to be so much closer, but I hadn’t been ready. I couldn’t imagine where those feelings could lead.

  Now I could. Without guitars between us, or even a hint of melody, he was so present. So electric and alive. That was the one thing that had been missing all that time. It was so unfair that it took this—breaking up, moving on—for me to feel it.

  I could admit, maybe some of it was that moment at the Eden. When he came out of nowhere, hands hot, eyes burning. It wasn’t that I wanted him to act like a Neanderthal. But I’d always felt like Dave could take me or leave me.

  It was so different now—now that I realized he could hold back, but it was driving him a little crazy to do it. And now that I knew what it would be like. I wondered, would his weight feel different on me? What would the roughness of his fingertips feel like, circling the curve of my breasts?

  My thoughts twisted, making my breath hitch. When I looked over, I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. Full and teasing—I knew what it felt like when he kissed me. What if he went down on me? Would he try to catch my gaze when he did?

  Dave shifted. His hand on my shoulder was theoretically friendly. In practice, it was more. In spite of his warmth, his ring was cold. He traced it in subtle strokes, just along my collar. Still pretending that touch was nothing more than friend to friend, partner to partner, Dave asked, “You all right?”

  I wasn’t. I was lonely and confused, and it felt so good to be touched again. Sensation drifted down my throat, swirling lazily and weighting my breath. My body reacted now, entirely on its own. Without thought, it wanted; it recognized a signal and it longed to send one back. It anticipated the coolness of that ring on the small of my back. On my hip, pressing in. . . .

  Thoughts scrambled, I tried to think of something to say. All I managed was a shake of my head.

  Slipping his hand beneath my hair, Dave trailed his ringed thumb across the back of my neck. The metal had warmed. It felt almost liquid; almost like a kiss. The fine hairs there stood up; my skin tightened wantonly. Now it was Dave’s touch that was cool. Down the curve of my shoulder, back up again. When silver touched the pulse point in my throat, I found my voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  Dave’s fingers twined in my hair, tugging lazily, then slipping free. Each touch came with plausible deniability. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe he was just comforting his friend. It could have been true, until he leaned closer. “Whatever you want.”

  Plaintive, I looked to him. “I don’t know what I want.”

  I couldn’t help but think that Dave would have never taken one compromising picture of himself, let alone a whole album of them. He would never flaunt his infidelity by posting it where everyone could see it. Yes, Dave could flirt all night and all day, but he always came home with me.

  Almost casually, Dave said, “Maybe we could figure it out.”

  Suddenly, words flew from my lips. It wasn’t planned; I think it was a reflex. Maybe to ask for permission, or find an escape, I wasn’t sure. All I know is that I needed an answer. I needed to hear something solid, that couldn’t be stroked away with the cool kiss of silver. “Why did you always hold back with me before?”

  His hand stilled. It weighted the back of my neck; warmed it. But now everything that moved was in his eyes. “We had something together on stage. I felt it; I know you did, too. And with the guitars and the lights, I could just let go and feel it. That’s what kept me going. You weren’t ready, but as long as we had that—”

  Stunned, I studied his face. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve never kissed anyone but you, Sarah. I never wanted to.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Maybe we talk too much. Maybe we always did.”

  Dave’s voice dropped, and he dropped his pretense. Catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he leaned in and turned my face toward him at the same time. The heat thickened around us. Stormy gaze flickering, Dave seemed to take me in. He didn’t stop at my lips; his gaze trailed over my body like a caress.

  My breath shortened; his raced to match. I knew he could see the rise of my nipples through my thin shirt. I wondered if he could feel the heat the gathered between my thighs. If he could smell me.

  Slowly tensing, Dave lingered there as his breath grew ragged. My lonely body yearned to leap up to meet him. I had places that needed to be kissed. Curves that needed strong hands to shape them.

  The moment was full of possibility. It bristled with it, bright and sharp. Trailing his thumb against my chin, Dave strayed dangerously close to my mouth. If I moved, just a little, I’d find Dave’s lips on mine. I’d find out what all that music passion felt like when he translated it to flesh.

  My breath caught.

  Dave turned, not toward my lips, but toward my ear. He murmured hoarsely, “I’m not going to give you another chance to get away.”

  Headlights streaked beneath the garage door, a brief, blinding flash. It stopped the spiral in my head, before I did something I regretted. Before I hurt Dave again, because he deserved so much better than that. As mixed-up and confused as I was, I really didn’t want to lead Dave on. He was a good guy—maybe the best guy.

  No. Not again. I’d learned my lesson the hard way: cheating solved nothing. I pressed a rough, chaste kiss against his cheek.

  And then I fled.

  ~

  I woke up to a voicemail from Will. There wasn’t much to it, just a hello, and a quick sorry about dropping the call. No apology for the pictures; no explanation for his behavior. I deleted it and didn’t bother to call back. It wasn’t noon yet, he wouldn’t have answered anyway.

  More confused than ever, I staggered into school late. Late enough to find out that Jane, in all her benevolent wisdom, had decided to get my mind off things by signing us up for the President’s Fitness Challenge.

  Nothing said I’m sorry your life is falling apart—let’s avoid it like putting on a gym uniform three years after taking your last required gym credit.

  “I know it’s sort of second grade,” Jane panted as we jogged in slow motion around the stadium’s track. “But they let us off early if we do this shiznit, and I wanna go to the movies.”

  Each step reverberated up my spine. Though cooler autumn weather had slipped in around us, I was soaked in sweat. It formed a humid V down the front and the back of my Property of East River T-shirt. My hair, inspired to new heights of frizz, bounced around my head. I felt like one of the cottony dandelions, right before somebody made a wish.

  “What do you want to go see?” I asked. My throat burned from breathing too hard.

  Waving a hand, Jane said, “You’ll love it. It’s a silent Romanian film about—”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “You didn’t even let me finish!”

  Rolling my head toward her, I didn’t really need to say it. The look did all the work for me.
r />   “I hate you,” she muttered.

  I tugged at the front of my shirt. Fanning it, I tried to get a breeze against my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this grimy. Probably at summer camp—the last place I was desperate enough to shower in public.

  “I’m not saying don’t go.” Cutting a look over at Jane, I sighed. “Go without me.”

  With a regal gesture to indicate our slick, nasty bodies, she said, “I did this for us.”

  Any other time, I would have just gone along. This time, though, I was running—literally—on two hours of sleep.

  After I left Dave’s, I’d locked myself in my room with my computer. Going over old texts and old e-mails, reading old @ messages on Twitter. And then, looking at those pictures again. Those pictures. I finally took Benadryl at four o’clock and collapsed from exhaustion.

  I shared none of this with Jane. Instead, I begged off for artistic reasons. “I have a couple songs for the movie that I really want to finish up for you. Will you be mad if I skip?”

  “Yes,” she deadpanned. “I’ll hate you forever. You’ll be dead to me.”

  Throwing my arms around her, I rocked her until we both lost our balance. “Thank you, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, peeling out of my grip. A smile resurfaced when she shoved me. “Now get your stank off me.”

  ~

  Later, and alone again, I dialed Will’s number once more. This time, when it went directly to voicemail, I left a message. Though I tried to sound okay, it was a struggle. I wanted to scream but recognized that screaming would solve nothing. So I measured my tone and weighed each word.

  “Things have been rough the last couple days, and we really need to talk. But I just wanted to tell you that I do miss you. I do love you. I believe in us. Please call and tell me you believe in us, too. I just want to hear you say it again.”

  I hoped I sounded just desperate enough for it to work.

  It was well after three in the morning when I finally dozed off. I guess my body had decided there was no call to wait for. Unfortunately, my mind wasn’t so convinced. My dreams were strange and fitful.

  In one, there was a party at a mansion on the hill, and I had to have a ribbon to get in. I knew Will was there, so I went looking for a ribbon. Everything I touched, though, turned to ash.

  Tossing myself out of bed with the sunrise, I checked my e-mail. I had a note from Emmalee about the varsity banquet and a two-for-one coupon at the Daily Grind. Nothing from Will. I checked my phone. No texts. Or tweets.

  And this time, no photos in his timeline or updates to the Tumblr. It was like Will had fallen off the face of the earth. I went so far as to pull up the college newspaper. If there had been an accident, if something terrible had happened on campus. . . .

  A quick scan told me that nothing had been reported overnight. Interestingly enough, I did find a tiny little article about Omega Theta Pi’s rush season. Skimming the article, I discovered that they would be introducing their newest members that night during their annual BONEFEST party.

  Recoiling from the screen, I shuddered. Bonefest. Seriously? The article came with a small black-and-white photo of the frat house. It was neoclassical, with white columns and a tall porch—and as ever, a few red party cups speckling the railings. A sheet hung from the upper balcony, hand-painted and sagging.

  On it, big, bulgy femurs spelled out the Greek letters ΩΘΠ. Though the “bones” were white, they looked suspiciously like penises. It was so shockingly frat-cliché that my stomach tilted queasily. What exactly would be going on at Bonefest? Did Will think that was funny? Was I wrong about him? About everything?

  I paced in front of my windows as I cleared the browser and texted Will again. where r u? v worried. plz let me know ur all right.

  Autumn had slipped into the neighborhood, seemingly overnight. Our maple trees had shifted toward golden leaves, waving restlessly against a pale blue sky. Touching the window, I noticed that the glass fogged around my fingers. When I pulled my hand away, a ghost of my touch remained in the haze.

  ~

  Dumping my phone, I rushed through my shower. If he called, I didn’t want to miss it.

  By the time I emerged, I was marginally cleaner, and Will still hadn’t called. Gathering up my plates from the night before, I tucked my phone in my pocket just within reach. Then I headed downstairs with my head still fighting over the possibilities.

  Grace must have heard my footsteps on the stairs. She had always been a morning person, much to Ellie’s chagrin. It was like it immediately made her less trustworthy because she never needed an alarm clock to pry her out of bed.

  “Morning,” Grace said, skimming behind me. She poured herself a tiny glass of orange juice and hovered just at my elbow.

  Fixing her with a plastic smile, I replied, “Yes, it is.”

  “Trouble sleeping?” she asked, sympathetically.

  “I slept okay. You?”

  “Well enough.”

  Producing my phone, I sent another plaintive note into the void.

  “Have you heard from Will?”

  And with that question, something snapped. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I said, “If Mom asks, tell her I went to the diner, okay?”

  Jane and I loved having breakfast at the diner, but as far as I knew, she was basking in her Saturday sleep-in, her head filled with visions of bleak black-and-white Romanian landscapes.

  I was heading to the diner to be alone, but if my best friend randomly showed up to have breakfast with me, it would have been a sign that the universe and I were starting to see eye-to-eye.

  I wasn’t sure what it meant when Dave showed up instead.

  THIRTY

  It was like Dave sensed I was uneasy. I had parked myself at one of the back tables. I wasn’t all that hungry, but I ordered a plate of fries and a cup of coffee so the waitress wouldn’t hate me.

  With my non-breakfast cooling in front of me, I distracted myself by reading the archives of the St. P-Windsor Trumpeteer. It wasn’t a website that was thick on details or rich with information. Mostly, it seemed like a place to run ads for roommates and to blurb random campus happenings.

  The frats and sororities showed up a lot. The pictures blended together after a while: young, bright faces full of smiles that had obviously been corrected by orthodontia. There was never anything less than an ear-to-ear grin, like they picked off the weak ones who occasionally frowned and used their skulls as chalices.

  “If looks could kill,” Dave said, slipping into the chair across from me, “That phone would be dust right now.”

  He was the last person I expected to see.

  Turning it facedown, I slapped it onto the table. “Where did you come from?”

  “I needed a BLT,” he said, shaking a white take-out bag. “Why are you sitting here, not eating breakfast?”

  It was sick how well he knew me. That he could take one look at my order and know with an absolute certainty that it was just for display. Plastering a hand to my face, I peered at him through my fingers. “I’m hiding from Grace. She’s driving me crazy.”

  With a smile, Dave dropped his bag on the table. “I get that way about Troy. Weird, huh? They go away to college and everything’s brilliant. No more older brother lording his existence over you. You take over his room, steal his old books, get used to his chair at the table being empty.”

  Relaxing a little, I nodded. “Exactly. Then it’s Thanksgiving, and you kind of miss them and their stupid face. And you get all moony until they come home . . .”

  “Where they promptly remind you why you were glad they left in the first place.”

  We melted into laughter. It wasn’t the funniest thing in the world, but God, it was so nice to feel something familiar. Comforting to connect with someone on common ground. I let my hand trail dow
n, clasping the back of my own neck. My hair was still knotted in messy braids, and it was nice that I wasn’t worried whether Dave liked it up or down.

  His expression shifting, Dave considered me for a moment. Then he patted the table as he stood. “Why don’t you come home with me? I have a whole queue of movies I’ve been saving for a rainy day.”

  Trailing my fingers down my shoulder, I nodded toward the window. “Sunny as can be.”

  “I’ll feel bad leaving you here to mope.”

  Already, I was gathering myself to leave. With mock outrage, I nudged him. “Hey, I was sitting here ruminating, thank you very much.”

  Dave waited for me to head for the door, then fell into step behind me.

  “Did you know that literally means to chew your cud?” he said. “That’s why cows are called ruminates.”

  Pushing into the pale, cool morning, I laughed as I pulled my jacket closed. “Most of us forgot our SAT vocab.”

  “I don’t believe in forgetting,” Dave said. There seemed to be a special weight to those words, but I didn’t examine it. Neither did he. Putting a hand on my back, he looked up the street in search of my car. “I walked here,” he said, somewhat suggestively.

  “Okay, okay,” I told him. “I’ll give you a ride. Jeez, quit begging.”

  Suddenly, everything felt so easy with Dave. We knew each other so well, and not just metaphysically. Three years was plenty of time to get to know somebody. To understand their quirks and their flaws. To care about them in spite of them.

  It seemed so petty now, to hold a wrong coffee against him when I hadn’t even tried to correct him. And so backward that I’d just been waiting for him to make a move. It hadn’t ever occurred to me that I could make mine.

  Now we were heading back to his house to “watch movies.” On the surface, that’s what we meant. I also knew that if I sat too close to him, he’d put his arm around me.