Take Me in the Dark

by Ashe, Karina

  I grab her arm and wave my other hand around. She laughs. “Okay,” Dolly whispers. “I won’t do that again if you don’t mumble to yourself.”

  I take a deep breath. “He, you know, was down there.”

  Dolly raises her eyebrows. “Down there? I really hope you were more specific when you gave David instructions.”

  Give David instructions? I think I was learning more about Dolly than she was about me.

  Dolly sticks a fry into her mouth. “Laura, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Yeah,” Cassie agrees, stealing one of Dolly’s fries. “That guy is so whipped.”

  “David is not whipped,” I argue.

  “Oh, he’s been whipped for a long time,” Dolly says.

  Anna frowns thoughtfully at the door David had disappeared behind minutes before. “Laura, you should just sleep with him already.”

  “What the hell?” I swat her. “You too?”

  “Seriously,” Dolly says through a mouthful of fries. “Put out or put him out of his misery.”

  “That’s really crass,” I murmur.

  “Good. You need to start being a little more crass with him,” Dolly retorts.

  I push my knees together. It wasn’t like I had trouble having dirty thoughts when I was with David. I mean, I’d seen him naked. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t hard and godly, and it was hard to forget how hard and godly…alright, even just thinking about all that…hard and godly…was distracting.

  I frown and take one of Dolly’s fries.

  “Hey!” she shrieks, trying to swat my hand.

  I whip my hands away and stuff the fries in my mouth. “What? Cassie’s had like half of them!”

  “Yeah, but Cassie isn’t a tease,” Dolly retorts. “I like David. I feel really bad for him.”

  “Yeah, I’m not,” Cassie declares. “And I wish that there was someone who would get the hint.”

  At that moment, I realize that there is a someone in the dining hall—a person who none of us, under any circumstances, would have noticed at the beginning of term, but who has, since then, embedded himself in our daily lives.

  On cue, Derrick lifts his leg from the floor to his chair, wraps his tattooed free arm around his knee, and sticks his chin out at Cassie in what I can only guess he considered a suave greeting. I think it would have gone over better with his target if he didn’t have an arm draped around another girl.

  Cassie hides her face in her hands. “Laura, I just want you to know that I’m never forgiving you for that day.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad sweetie,” Dolly soothes, patting her back.

  “No. It is that bad. Look at what I got just this morning.” Cassie shrugs Dolly off, reaches into her jeans and pulls out a post-it note covered in some of the most illegible chicken scratch I’ve ever seen.

  Dolly squints. “How can you read that?”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice,” Cassie replies. She straightens her back and clears her voice before beginning:

  “Roses can be many colors,

  Most violets are violet.

  That poem never made a whole lot of sense to me,

  And neither does my attraction to you.

  But hey, I can’t deny it and I don’t want to.

  I’m just asking for one night, babe.

  Just one chance to show you who I am,

  Let’s find out if this thing is real.”

  Cassie stops. “Based on the way this is structured, I’m guessing he meant for it to be a poem.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet,” Anna coos.

  Cassie glares at her. “I’m just asking for one night, babe? That’s a booty call, Anna. That’s not sweet.” She huffs. “Besides, I don’t need to give him a chance to show me who he is. It’s not like he has anything I haven’t seen before.”

  Dolly slaps the table. “Amen!”

  I step in, trying to defend Anna. “Hey, it’s a booty call poem. He referenced roses and violets. That shows effort.”

  “There is absolutely nothing poetic about this!” Cassie sticks the post-it to her finger, waving it around like a flag. “He might as well have just written ‘ass’ thirty times.”

  “But he didn’t. That shows restraint!” Anna says.

  “Restraint? He doesn’t even proofread this stuff before he sends it to me. Half the words on this paper are misspelled.”

  Anna, Dolly and I share a look, laughing. “Maybe you should critique one of his post-it notes and give it back to him.”

  Cassie mulls this over. “You don’t think that would encourage him?”

  “Probably not. You’re kind of a bitch,” Dolly says.

  “Yeah, but I think he’s into that,” I whisper. Cassie cuts me a look that would kill a lesser woman—or one who wasn’t used to being glared at like that on a daily basis.

  Anna beams. “Look on the bright side. If it does encourage him, at least you’ll start getting better post-it notes!”

  Chapter 6

  It did encourage him, but the post-its did not get better. Instead, it morphed into some twisted game where Derrick tried to see how many mistakes Cassie could catch. Every time she didn’t, Derrick would send it back with the missed mistake circled.

  That kinda pissed her off.

  However, Cassie wasn’t the type to sulk. Instead, she decided to get even.

  I giggle into the phone.

  “Christ, Laura. Keep it down! You sound like a foghorn.”

  “Sorry Cass.”

  “Alright, after you apologize you’re supposed to stop giggling.”

  But I can’t stop. I suck in a deep breath to try to block out the giggles and double over, laughing harder.

  “You haven’t even heard the whole thing yet! It isn’t that funny!”

  “It is that funny.” I cringe as I speak, as if a severe expression can somehow counteract the giggles. Oh man, it totally can’t. “Are you really going to give that to him?”

  “Oh, I’m going to give it to him,” Cassie vows.

  I start laughing again.

  “Hey, I’m not reading any more of this to you if you keep this up.”

  “That’s probably a good thing.” I wheeze. “People are starting to look at me weird. I think they might call the nurse.” I take three deep breaths before asking, “Did you really write that?”

  I’m referring to her lethal counterattack—the worst poem I’ve ever heard.

  “Hell yes I wrote this! And you know that big, ugly trunk by my bed? It’s full of them. He has no idea who he’s fucking with.”

  I can’t help but smile. Cassie’s about to unleash the most horrifying and disturbing thing in her arsenal: the poetry she wrote in high school. “I can just imagine you writing that on the floor of your bedroom with the curtains drawn and the lights off.”

  “Hey, I lit a candle. There was always a candle. And I didn’t have curtains, babe. Just blinds.” She pauses. “And of course they were drawn.”

  “Of course,” I laugh. I’m still laughing when I feel someone tap my shoulder.

  I shriek, dropping the phone.

  “Laura,” the voice soothes. A second hand comes to my shoulder. I shudder as the unbidden feeling consumes me.

  It used to be like this. Every day I’d wait for it. When it didn’t come, I’d feel empty. Dead. I thought I was over it. I thought I could move past it. But I can’t. After feeling you like this, I’ve realized that I’ve waited for you every day—that I’ve felt dead since that day you so cruelly ripped out my heart and walked away.

  The arms shake me. “Laura?”

  I blink. The voice isn’t right. There’s no accent. It’s not as deep or soft. I gaze up into Professor Cade’s face.

  I shake my head and the spell that had temporarily consumed me dissolves. “Sorry…I…”

  “No I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but I’ve been looking all over for you and when you didn’t answer…”

  I look down. “It’s alright.” A
s my eyes are on the floor, I see my phone. “Oh shit! Cassie!” I drop to my knees, snatch the phone and smash it so hard into the side of my head that I wince.

  “LAURA? LAURA? WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? LAURA?”

  “Cass, it’s me,” I yell.

  “LAURA? ARE YOU OKAY?”

  “I’m fine. I just…” I glance at Professor Cade. “Someone startled me is all.”

  “Oh shit, Laura. I was so freaked out. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  I groan as I stand.

  “Oh God, did you hurt something?”

  “No, I’m just really out of shape,” I admit.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, because—”

  I glance at Professor Cade. “Cass, I have to talk to someone. I’ll call you back, okay?” After I get her reluctant consent, I hang up the phone.

  Professor Cade tilts his head, smiling. “You have a really good friend there.”

  “I know.” I drop the phone into my purse. “So, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “Yeah, it’s good I found you. Can you step into my office for a moment?”

  I raise a brow. This is a little strange. “Is something going on with Bruigh na Boinne?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He starts walking and I fall into step beside him. “Um…I didn’t miss an assignment or anything, did I?”

  He turns the corner and fishes for his keys. “No, nothing bad Laura. It’s good news.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I whisper.

  He opens the door to his office and I walk in.

  Professor Cade’s place is kind of like him—eclectic, sexy and comforting. Three cacti grow on the windowsill. Jars of broken pieces of pottery he picked up in South America are lined up on a woven Indonesian tapestry. On the wall that isn’t taken over by bookshelves, a print of one of Picasso’s famous blue paintings hangs next to that iconic poster of Bob Marley.

  I jump as he shuts the door. “Sit down.”

  I do, taking my time. “You’re kinda freaking me out Mr. Cade.”

  He sits at his desk in front of me and folds his hands. “I don’t mean to startle you, Laura. Are you comfortable?”

  Sort of, but definitely not now that you asked me! “Could you just tell me what this is all about?”

  “Yes, sorry.” He reaches into his desk. “I received a call from someone who saw your performance at the Guchenberg.”

  My heart pounds. Oh shit. Someone saw me making out with David on that table and what we did was a biohazard because they were going to lay food out on it! “Is that so?” I try to keep my voice nonchalant.

  “Yes. They want you to perform at a Christmas charity dinner in two weeks.”

  It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Unfortunately, during that moment he keeps talking.

  “I know it’s the week before finals, but if you think you can work it, it will be a fantastic opportunity.” He slides the paper he retrieved from his drawer across the the top of the desk. “They’re offering $2,000.”

  “$2,000?”

  He nods.

  “How long is the concert?”

  “You’re not the only one performing, so only twenty minutes.”

  My heart speeds up as I do a quick calculation. “Oh my god, that’s like $500 each for a twenty minute set?”

  “No. It’s $2,000 for a twenty minute set. The rest of Bruigh na Boinne are not involved. They only wanted you.”

  I grab the page. “This doesn’t make sense,” I whisper, but it’s all there on paper. The charity is to benefit children’s leukemia, and only my name is on the paper. Laura. “Do they really want me to sing? I’m not even a singer.”

  “Well, I think they want you to play the cello too. They wanted a mix of what you did with Bruigh na Boinne, but have also requested a few specific ones. You’ll have to change the arrangements for the Bruigh na Boinne, songs, of course.”

  I set the paper down on my lap and look up. “I don’t understand why they’d want only me.”

  Professor Cade shrugs. “I can’t answer that, though I think this will be a good opportunity for you. A lot of your confidence comes from being able to perform with the other girls.”

  “Thanks for pointing that out.”

  He smiles. “So I think it would be good for you to stand on your own. What do you want me to tell them?”

  I glance down, realizing that all this time I’ve been nervously folding the corner of the page. Strange. I didn’t notice that before. David’s words come back to haunt me. How did he see you? He sounds like a stalker. And, He was probably there that night. You might have even seen him.

  I remember the intensity of that strange man’s blue eyes and shiver. That’s impossible, Laura. Why would he ask for you after all this time? Stop engaging in these masochistic fantasies. Still, I ask, “Who asked for me?”

  “Oh, right.” Professor Cade searches through a few drawers for a piece of paper. “It’s around here somewhere.”

  It feels like an hour passes before he finds it. “Here’s the name of the performance coordinator.”

  I glance at the small business card. It’s pale blue and has a picture of a big, happy daffodil in the corner. Beatrice Miller. A woman’s name, not a man’s. “Was she the one who saw me at the Guchenberg?”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s in charge of coordinating the event. She said you’re free to contact her with any questions.”

  I fist the business card and stuff it in my pocket. “No, that’s alright.” I take a deep breath and swallow. “I think I’ll take it.”

  Chapter 7

  The night of the charity concert comes faster than I could have ever imagined. Between practicing for my twenty minute set and finals, I have no free time. David has been amazingly supportive. Then again, maybe he’s just giving me the space I need to think everything over. I get a rush every time I see him. Heat fills my cheeks as I remember that day in his room, the strength of his hands as they hold back my legs, the soft, warmth of his tongue as he kisses me so sweetly and so agonizingly that I fall apart in his arms.

  He hasn’t made a move on me since then. I think he’s waiting for some cue from me, or maybe he’s giving me space until I after the concert. It doesn’t matter, though. That memory is like a living, breathing thing between us. I read my own dark fantasies into his eyes when they linger too long on my neck or lips, and I know he does the same when I shiver whenever he touches my shoulder. Neither of us can forget what happened even if we wanted to; no matter what happens next, there’s no going back to the way things were.

  My shadow lover hasn’t come back. He hasn’t even written. I’d like to say that I’ve stopped checking my mailbox every morning, but I haven’t. I don’t know what to think about that, either.

  I pack up my books near my locker and try to quiet my nerves. Dolly has been teaching me these breathing exercises she does right before she goes out on stage. Unfortunately they aren’t working…though that could be because I’ve been really self-conscious about doing it ever since Cassie said it made me look like a fish.

  “Hey.”

  I freeze up and dart around at the sound of David’s voice. “Hey,” I squeak, then wonder why my voice sounds so weird until I realize I’m doing a fish face.

  David gives me the kind of grin that I’ve come to know means he’s silently laughing inside.

  “You’re so mean,” I tell him.

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. You’re laughing at me.”

  “I’m not laughing,” he says. Unfortunately, stringing that many words together does make him chuckle at the end.

  “See?”

  “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “I knew how cute you were was gonna get me in trouble.”

  I don’t have a response for that.

  David catches my hand. “I wish I was going with you tonight.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Me too.”

  “You sure they won’t let you take a roadie?”


  I cock my head to the side, grinning. “Just for a cello?”

  “Hey, these hands are precious,” he whispers, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

  I shiver everywhere. The softness of his lips remind me of the way he kissed, and…Oh God I’m making fish face again!

  “Is something wrong?”

  Great. Fish face strikes again. “No, I’m just worried about tonight.”

  “You’re going to do great.”

  “I hope so.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze. “I know so. What you should really be worried about is your Music Theory final. I think I’m finally going to score higher than you.”

  “Yeah right,” I say haughtily, then amend, “but even if you do, it’s only because I’ve been too busy to study as thoroughly as I should.”

  He puts his hand over his heart dramatically. “Oh Laura, you’re not even going to let me enjoy beating you this one time?”

  “You haven’t beat me yet!”

  “But I have a chance.”

  “Only because I’m super busy, so does that even count as you really beating me?”

  He laughs. “You’re so cruel.”

  “No I’m not! I would be cruel if I still beat you on that final despite my hectic schedule and decided to rub in the fact that I won.”

  He sighs and stops laughing. “You’re going to do that, aren’t you?”

  I can’t help but grin. “Hey, only if I beat you, which I probably won’t because you’re studying so hard, right?”

  “You know, I am studying pretty hard. Maybe you shouldn’t be so confident.”

  “Really? Want to bet?”

  My heart skips a beat. His eyes fill with heat. “If I win, I’ll take you out somewhere to celebrate,” he says.

  I know I should say something, but my words fail me. I’m instantly transported back into that moment. I remember how large he was in my hand, the feeling of his skin gathering beneath my palm as I gripped him and pulled up. I remember the vow he somehow kept: I’ll only kiss you. And I remember how deep a kiss can be. How a single kiss can shatter you. The reverent look in his eyes as he looked up at me, between my legs, tongue gently exploring the most sensitive areas of my body.