Heartstopper

by Lauren Landish

  When I got back, I found Chris leaning back on the sofa, watching the evening news. "Hey man, how was work today?"

  "Good," I said with a smile. I pulled my paycheck, which I'd opened on the MARTA, out of my back pocket. "Check it out. After taxes, nine hundred and forty-seven dollars and thirty-six cents."

  Chris flashed me a thumbs up. “That’s good. You've been working your ass off. So are you on the schedule for tomorrow?"

  I shook my head. "Nope. I'm off until Saturday morning. Why?"

  "We're going out then," Chris said, getting off the sofa. "But you're buying the beer."

  "I don't know, man. Since getting out, I've found that my taste for alcohol isn’t what it used to be,” I said, tilting my head and rubbing my hand through my hair. "You know, getting dried out by Leavenworth and everything. Not to mention, I don't need any trouble with John Law."

  Chris wasn't to be denied, however. "Don't sweat it, man. We're just going out to celebrate. I promise, you're not going to get hammered, and we're just gonna relax, see if maybe we can find you a girl to take your mind off whoever the hell it is that's been keeping you tossing and turning on the sofa at night."

  "Sorry about that," I apologized, knowing exactly what Chris was talking about. In the days since the night with Abby, she was always in my thoughts. A lot of it was silly shit, like if she'd be proud of me for how I worked or if she'd like the cut of beef I'd picked up at the grocery store. But whether it was just stupid rationalization or not, she was always on my mind. I tried to stop it, but the image of her eyes drove me from my sleep every morning, and it was the desire for my arms to hold her again that chased me in my dreams.

  She'd even, after the week of sulking, fueled my renewed focus on working out. With Chris being home, I didn't feel so strange using the fitness center at the Tower, and I'd gotten back into the habit of morning PT. An hour on the weights alternated days with calisthenics and running around the park, using one of the jogging paths that ringed the place. Every time I went by the grove of trees where I'd rescued Abby from those scum that had assaulted her, I found the energy to push myself just a little harder.

  Still, I woke up in the middle of the night more often than not, and I guess Chris had noticed. I made a firm decision. "All right, man. Let's go out and enjoy the world. We're single, under thirty, and we've got some money in our pocket. We're the kings of the goddamned world, aren't we?"

  "That's the spirit. Come on. But first . . . you need a shower. You smell like a car service."

  The club wasn't much, just a pretty standard country and western bar that catered to the crowd that was slightly older than college age. There were plenty of college kids there, but the majority of the people there that night at Roundups looked like they had at least a car loan, if not a mortgage, in their name.

  Unfortunately, the fact that we were there on a Wednesday night of all times meant that the crowd was light. We'd been there an hour already, and to be honest, even if I had been in the mood to chase a skirt, the pickings were mighty slim, and Chris was despondent. "This place is dead, man. Sorry about that."

  I took a sip of my beer, the second glass of the night—I'd promised myself no more than three— and sat back, shaking my head. “It ain't no thing. It's nice to just get out a bit and chill. Hell, it feels good just being able to pay for the beer."

  "Well, you still owe me about fifty more pitchers, by my calculations," Chris said with a laugh. "Do that over the course of the rest of our lives, and I'll call it even on that loan. No way in hell am I taking half of your first paycheck."

  "Dude, you need to at least let me give you something," I objected. "Pay you some rent, something. And we go half on the groceries.”

  Chris took another drink of his own beer—he was most of the way done with number four and warming up for number five—and it looked like he was about to object for a second, then he shrugged. "All right. We go half on the groceries, and your rent's four hundred a month. You pay me with your next paycheck."

  Chris finished off his beer and looked around, seeing something that caught his eye. "Damn, check out the tits on that one. Phew, she'd be able to hold this whole glass in between those puppies."

  I looked over and saw who he was talking about, a curvy girl who looked to be in her early twenties. She was pretty light skinned, but she still stood out in a place like Roundups, where most of the clientele was a shade lighter. "I see you still like chasing the younger ones," I said. “Though she isn't jailbait. When did you grow out of them?"

  "About the time I started getting strange looks around the high schools," Chris said with another laugh. "So I graduated up to college girls, and that one looks like just about my type. You know what the best thing about undergrads is, Dane?"

  "What's that?" I asked, feeling like the years were falling away. We weren't pushing thirty anymore but were twenty-three and on leave in between Airborne School and heading back to Fort Campbell to join the 101st, and everything was relaxed and cool.

  "I keep getting older, they keep staying the same age," Chris finished with a laugh. "Why don't you try for that one? You always struck me as a tits man."

  I shook my head. "Nah, that's okay." I looked around for someone else to take my attention from the girl, someone who looked like she was already attached. It wasn't that the girl wasn't hot, it was just I wasn't interested in a one-night stand. Besides, the inner voice said, that isn't Abby. "How about that one?"

  Chris looked over at who I pointed out, laughing. “Her? Didn't think you chased married women."

  I shrugged. "Maybe it's just the beer, then. Hey, what ever happened between you and that girl you were dating right before I went up? You know, the one we called Miss Teen USA?"

  Chris polished off the rest of beer number four, his expression darkening. "Never came to anything, man. Just . . . never came to anything. Listen, you going to find some pussy or not? If not, I'm going to look around myself.”

  I looked around and shook my head. "Nah, I'm good. Probably got whiskey dick right now anyway."

  Chris grunted and heaved himself out of his chair, putting his glass down on the table. I looked, and the girl he'd first shown interest in had seemingly disappeared, while the woman I'd indicated seemed like she was still there. Chris studied her for a second and shrugged. "Hell, any port in a goddamn storm. Yo, you good at getting home tonight by yourself if you need? I'd rather not bring this one home, if you know what I mean."

  "I'm good, man. Happy hunting."

  "You're goddamn right about that."

  Chapter 9

  Abby

  I came out of the Clough Undergraduate Commons building, frustrated with myself. I'd stopped by the building to find a quiet spot to do some studying for my European History final, which was the next day, when I'd fallen asleep in one of the comfortable chairs that you could find in the study rooms. When a chime had woken me up, I was pissed to find that it was already noon, and I had agreed to meet Shawnie for lunch in fifteen minutes. If I hurried, I'd just make it.

  Heading off campus, I rounded a corner to come to a screeching halt before I got run over by someone on a bicycle. "Hey, watch where you're going!"

  The bike came to a stop, and I saw that the man was wearing a business suit, one of the seeming army of young executives on bikes that had sprung up around Atlanta as the city became more bike friendly. This one had the whole nine yards of gear, including aerodynamic minimalist helmet and even a protective tight spat on his right lower leg to protect his suit pants from the oil and dirt of his chain.

  When he turned, I felt like I'd been smacked in the face. "C-Chris?"

  Chris blinked, his momentary expression of anger over being yelled at being replaced by a gape of surprise. "Abby? Abby Rawlings?"

  I smiled, stunned. "Yeah. Wow, it's been so long."

  He got off his bike and came over, grinning. "Yeah, it has been. How have you been?"

  I shrugged. "Well, you know . . . nearly done with college no
w. And you?"

  "Running back to the office," he said. "I had a client meeting downtown, and the traffic is hell in a car that way this time of day, so I jumped on the bike instead. I have to say, you look great. So you're what, a senior now?"

  I nodded. He was the same as ever, with the sort of personality that never let up and never really backed down. "Yeah. What about you? What are you doing?"

  "I'm in real estate. Hey, you know, we should catch up sometime. I live near here, if you don't know. The Mayfair Tower. You know it?" Chris said, smiling wider.

  The mention of the Mayfair filled my heart with dread and trepidation as I thought again about Dane. It had been Dane who'd taken me to the tower, and it was through Dane that the memory of Chris was strong in my head again. Most of all, though, it was Dane. Dane, Dane, Dane damn-his-heart-for-disrupting-my-sleep-for-five-weeks-Bell. Chris saw the change of expression on my face and tilted his head to the side, confused. "Abby, I know that I was kind of an idiot in breaking things off between us the way I did, but that was a few years ago now. Listen, I'd really like the chance to at least explain to you why. Would you mind if I got your number?"

  My cellphone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing that it was Shawnie. Cursing silently to myself, I nodded quickly. "Okay. Here," I said before giving him the number. I didn't have time to argue with him. I didn't want to keep Shawnie waiting any longer than I had to. "Chris, I'd love to chat more, but this is a friend of mine, and I'm already late for a lunch appointment. Do you mind if I take off?"

  "No, I understand," he said with a somewhat happy smile. "It was good to see you again."

  He hopped on his bike and disappeared down the street while I answered Shawnie's call. "Yeah, babe, it's me. Yeah, I know. Hey, I fell asleep in a study chair. You know, that one that gets the morning sunlight. I'm just off campus now, maybe five minutes away? Yeah, go ahead and order," I said as I jogged across the street. "General Tso's Chicken for me. I'm serious, and yes, I know it totally makes me a hypocrite. But today I can use it. I'll tell you all about it when I get there. Thanks, Shawnie. Bye."

  I turned back to see if I could still see Chris, but he had disappeared. I was confused, and more than ever, unsure of what the hell was going on. Chris looked handsome, that was for sure, but there was something in the way he'd talked to me . . . I just wasn't attracted to him anymore. Sure, five years ago when I was seventeen, maybe. But not anymore.

  When I got to the restaurant, Shawnie was just pulling apart her set of chopsticks. "Hey, Abby, the food should be here any minute. So how was your nap?"

  "Needed," I said honestly. Shawnie gave me a look of concern, and I nodded. "Yeah, I'm still not sleeping well."

  "Even after the double spin classes you tried this past week?" she asked. "You could barely make your way up the stairs the last time I saw you."

  I nodded. While I'd pushed myself to my limits physically and dropped into bed each night exhausted, that didn't mean that I was staying asleep or sleeping well. "Not even those. Why do you think I'm trying the chicken today? My legs are so damn sore that I figure the extra calories and protein can do nothing but help with recovery, if nothing else. I'll be honest with you, Shawnie. I'm scared. Our history final is tomorrow, and right now I couldn't tell you the difference between Napoleon Bonaparte and Napoleon Dynamite."

  "So when are you going to give this guy a call back then?" Shawnie asked, cutting to the root of the issue in her normal direct fashion. "At least talk to him over the phone and then make your decision. You might be able to get some sleep tonight."

  "And tomorrow's final?" I asked, confused. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

  Shawnie laughed and leaned back. Our food arrived, and we tore into it like the starving people we were. I hadn't told her, but between the stress, the extra exercise and the lack of good sleep, I'd dropped nearly eight pounds in the past two weeks, and even Brittany, who had once joked with me that there was a kernel of truth in the old saying you could never be too rich or too thin, looked at me with concern. I could see it too, as my cheekbones were starting to be a bit too defined, and I'd gone from perky and cute to lean and drawn. A few more weeks of this, and I'd be at the stringy and emaciated stage.

  “I’ve been thinking," I told Shawnie after I'd finished chewing on one of the spicy-sweet chunks of chicken, "and I think what you told me last time carries a lot of merit. But, Shawnie, what if the thing this guy did . . . well, what if it's a lot more serious? That guy you knew in high school, that's one thing. But to do what this guy did . . . well, are there crimes beyond forgiveness?"

  Shawnie chewed on some of her own food, Kung Pao shrimp and vegetables, then took a sip of her tea. The restaurant, in a nod to the Southern culture in which it was located, offered both iced and traditional hot tea with its meals, although they had so far not bowed to the Southern convention of adding ridiculous amounts of sugar to all tea.

  "That's something I think each person needs to answer for themselves," she eventually replied. "I can't speak for you, Abby, but from what I've seen from you, I think you need to talk to him either way. Can I ask—you don't need to answer or anything, but from the way you acted afterward . . . I take it that it was more than just a kiss or something?"

  "God, yes," I immediately said, blushing. “A lot more.”

  Shawnie nodded, then grinned. “It was that good, huh?"

  I couldn't help it, I laughed. The humor helped. "You have no clue, Shawnie. Seriously, that man could do things that I never imagined."

  "And your hang-up about him, is it because of that, or because of him?" she asked, springing her trap. It was part of the reason I liked her so much. She was willing to confront me, but always in a way that was for my own good. "I'm just saying, if you're having bad dreams and not sleeping because you need a good orgasm, I'll get you a battery-powered sleep aid for your graduation present. Rechargeable, even. But I think you're more authentic than that."

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and it gave me something to think about. I took a sip of my tea, thinking. Shawnie and I worked our way through the rest of our meal when she took something out of her pocket. "Hey, I got a letter today."

  "Oh?" I asked. "Who from?"

  "Not who, but where," Shawnie said. "I got accepted for a full ride to Stanford for grad school."

  I blinked, stunned. "Full ride? Really?"

  Shawnie nodded, sighing. "Yeah. You remember that summer internship I did last summer, the one with the lab over in Texas?"

  "Duh," I replied with a laugh. "Shawnie, you got to do a summer internship at the Johnson Space Center. What could be better for an engineering student?"

  "Well, the guy I was working with there—I thought he was a total prick, but it turns out that he wrote a letter to the admissions people at Stanford. He's buddies with the head of the aeronautical engineering department there, and they've collaborated on some projects together. In any case, when my application went across his desk, the guy pushed for me. And by the conversation I had with the guy last night on the phone, if my first semester works out well, he'd be able to get me a paid TA position second-semester teaching freshman math too. It's not a lot, but it'd put cash in my pocket and totally eliminate the need for me to do a part-time job."

  I whistled. "You must have really made an impression on the guy at Johnson."

  "I guess I must have," Shawnie said with a chuckle. "I never would have thought it from the way he acted the whole time I was there."

  "So what are you going to do?" I asked. "You know I've only applied to schools in the area. GT, Duke, UGA, stuff like that."

  "I know," Shawnie said quietly. She looked at the letter, which she'd taken out of the envelope while we talked, then looked up at me. "Abby, you're my best friend, but this is too good to pass up. I mean, a paid Master's? Not too many girls from the Sandhills get a chance like that."

  "Not to mention you'll be working with some of the best and brightest in the world, as well as being able to may
be score a job with the JPL, or maybe one of those aircraft manufacturers that you bent my ear about so much," I said. I reached across the table and took her hands. "If you want my advice, I want you to do it. I mean, of course I'll miss you, but we can still get together during summers, and besides, it'll give you motivation to make a plane fast enough that you and I can hang out on weekends or something."

  Shawnie squeezed my fingers and lowered her head, blinking. "Thanks, Abby. I love you, girl.”

  "I love you too, sweetie," I replied. My phone rang, and I took it out of my pocket. I looked at it, then I looked up at Shawnie. "It's him."

  "Who?" she asked, momentarily having a vacant moment.

  "You know . . . Dane.”

  "Dane, so that's his name," she said while the phone rang. "So what are you going to do?"

  I thought, my finger hovering between the green and red buttons. "Hell, you listened to my advice. I might as well follow yours," I said, jabbing the green button. "Hello?"

  "Abby, it's Dane. Don't hang up."

  I looked over at Shawnie, who gave me a supportive smile and sat back. "I won't hang up, Dane. But you need to talk fast, and talk well."

  I heard Dane exhale on his end, and my heart went out to him. I'd been rejecting his calls for so long, he probably had little hope left that I'd have ever picked up. I wondered if his heart was in his throat like mine was, and if he was also torn in half between fear and happiness, although perhaps for different reasons.

  "Abby, first of all, I want to apologize. You're right, there's a ton of things about my past that you don't know about. And maybe I should have told you. But I'll be honest in saying I just didn't know how. I need to see you. At least give me a chance to tell my side of the story. There's more to it than what you know. I'm not asking for redemption, but . . . I want to see if there is more between us than just one night. And most of all, I don't want you to think I'm a monster."