The Love Square

by Jessica Calla

  She sighed. “What?”

  “I want you to volunteer at one of the horse farms and ride. I want you to make friends—not just Dylan, other friends too. I want you to travel and see the state and take more pictures. I want you to do your best at your job but keep an open mind about making photography a career. Look into art schools. Start those yoga classes you were telling me about. Do it all, Clare.”

  “Why are you saying all this?” she asked.

  “Because if I’m going to give you up, I want it to be so you can have a better life without me,” he said and smiled. “Or I’ll be super pissed and come here and drag you back kicking and screaming like your mama wants me to.”

  “Luke, you know, I may beg to come back in another few months.”

  “No,” he said, “not you. You are going to be fine. Figure out what you want and get it.”

  “I want the same for you, you know. I want you to have the life you always dreamed of.”

  “I know, sugar. But I already have that. I’m lucky that way.”

  She grinned and leaned her head on his shoulder. Life would have more in store for Lucas, even if he thought he’d already reached the pinnacle.

  He rested his head on hers. “I love you. You always keep that in the back of your mind. If you ever need me, just call. Got it?”

  “I got it. And Luke?”

  “Yep?”

  “Thanks for spending this time with me. Being with you was exactly what I needed.”

  Angelica tried to delay Lucas’s departure, clinging to his bag when he tried to lift it, but eventually, after tearing the cat off the luggage, Clare and Lucas sat in front of her apartment waiting for the cab.

  When it arrived, Lucas threw his bag inside and hugged Clare. It wasn’t until she watched the cab turn the corner, that she felt the first tear drop.

  Back inside, Angelica greeted her at the door, then slinked away.

  “Traitor cat,” Clare said after her. “I should have sent you back with him.”

  She bee-lined for her bed and hid under the covers. The pillow still smelled like Lucas—fresh air mixed with cotton. Then she shut her eyes and hoped she didn’t let the best thing that ever happened to her get into a cab and leave.

  Chapter 24

  Dylan

  After a tearful good-bye at the airport, Dylan left New York and Jenna to return home. They’d tried to look forward to Vegas in a couple of weeks, but still, after their nights together, separating proved difficult.

  On the flight back to California, Dylan’s thoughts wandered to Clare. Kissing her in the alley was probably the stupidest move he could have made, for him, for Clare, and for Jenna. He didn’t want to be “that guy.” He wanted to be in a relationship with someone who loved him and who he loved back. Someone who was available to him, even if she lived across the country.

  Clare was special, he couldn’t deny that. But Clare wasn’t available, and now neither was he, and kissing her jeopardized her relationship and his, not to mention their friendship. He had to make things right.

  As soon as he arrived home, he drove to the bookstore. One of the employees told him she wasn’t there.

  “She’s on the schedule for today. She told me,” Dylan said.

  “She called out,” the employee said.

  Called out? Clare never called out.

  He called her cell. “Hey, Nebraska,” he said, relieved when she answered. “I just got in a little while ago. I’m at the bookstore looking for you. Are you okay?”

  “I’m home. You can come here if you want,” she said.

  A little while later, Dylan knocked on her door. He heard Angelica scratching on the other side while he waited for Clare to let him in.

  She opened the door with puffy eyes and messy hair, wearing her pajamas and holding a tissue to her nose.

  “Clare? What’s wrong?”

  “Just a little under the weather,” she said.

  “Are you crying?”

  She walked toward the bedroom. “I think I have a cold.”

  He followed her. “I know you aren’t feeling well, but I really have to talk to you about the other night.”

  “Dylan, it’s okay,” she said. “Lucas and I—”

  “I know,” Dylan said. “And Jenna and I, we’re trying to take this to another level.”

  Clare raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”

  “I feel horrible about what happened,” he said. “I should never have kissed you like that.”

  “Horrible? Oh,” she said again.

  “It was totally disrespectful to you, to Lucas, to us. I don’t know what came over me. We’re friends, right?”

  He expected her to go Nebraska on him and tell him to screw off, but instead she crawled into bed. “Friends, huh?” she asked. “Yeah, sure, Dylan. We are friends. Always.”

  He heard her tone and attributed it to her physical state. “All weekend I thought about Saturday night and how I risked everything for both of us. I’m such a moron.”

  “No, Dylan,” Clare said, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. “I’m the moron. Trust me. And I feel like crap. Would you mind letting yourself out?”

  “Can I get you anything? Chicken soup? Tea?”

  “No, thanks. I need to rest so I can go to work tomorrow. I’m glad you’re back and that you had such a great time in New York,” she mumbled from under the covers.

  “Did you and Lucas have a nice time?”

  “Yeah, wonderful. I’ll talk to you soon, all right? I need a little time to recover before Vegas.”

  Dylan wasn’t used to Clare shoving him out. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just that I want to feel better.”

  “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “I’m sure, Dylan.”

  He let himself out and drove home, not sure what to make of their exchange. If Clare needs space, I will give it to her. They’d be together in Vegas in a couple of weeks, and he could straighten out their situation then.

  ***

  Alex

  “I’m going to check our bags. Thanks for the ride,” Scott said.

  “Good luck, Scotty. Take care of Jenna for me, okay?” He shaded his eyes with his hand under the scorching sun.

  “You got it,” Scott said. He grabbed the handle of Jenna’s suitcase and started through the airport doors, rolling the bags behind him.

  Jenna and Alex stood on the busy sidewalk outside the terminal where flight 97, nonstop from Newark to Las Vegas, would take her and Scott to nationals. Despite her casual flying attire, she looked as beautiful as ever. She bragged she was in the best shape of her life, which Alex figured was true after scanning her body. Primping for the competition included adding caramel highlights to her hair that matched her eyes perfectly and spray-tanning her tan lines away for her revealing competition costumes. Rehearsal had taken its toll on her, though. Alex could see it in the depths of her tired eyes.

  “Are you nervous about the competition?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe? Dylan’s going to be there. Clare. I don’t know what my problem is.” She stood in front of Alex, shifting uncomfortably.

  “Listen,” he told her, “you’re going to be great. Stop being nervous.”

  “I wish you could come,” she said, and his heart broke a little.

  “You understand why I can’t, right?” He had an away series that weekend and wasn’t allowed to miss. The only way you could get a “rest” day was if the coach approved, and with his recent exposure, there was no way Alex wasn’t going to play.

  “Of course I do. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I just wish you could be with me, that’s all.”

  “Dylan will take care of you. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Jenna pouted. “I know. But sometimes I just need you.”

  Alex felt the pull and embraced her. “You are an angel,” he whispered. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”

  “That’s not true,” she sa
id. “You’ll call me, right?”

  “Absolutely,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. That damn pull thwarted his attempts to let her go. “Break a leg. Kick ass. You and Scott are awesome, and I have no doubt you can win this, you hear me?”

  Jenna nodded and pulled away. “Don’t forget about me,” she said. “See you in a few days.”

  She walked into the airport. When the sliding-glass doors closed behind her, she turned around and waved.

  Alex declared himself the biggest jerkoff in the world for not being able to see Jenna perform, especially after she’d been so supportive of his major league stint. But that was what being a ball player was about. During the season, you couldn’t be much of anything else.

  Alex put the car in Drive and cut off a taxi when he pulled onto the ramp to the highway. In another month or so, depending on if they made the playoffs, he’d have the winter off. He’d work at the garage, but his free time would increase dramatically.

  Maybe I’ll take Jenna skiing for the holidays, he thought.

  Yeah, right. “She has a boyfriend,” he said out loud to the traffic on the turnpike. She’d probably spend Christmas with Dylan, either in California or somewhere more exotic. Alex would be lucky to see either one of them.

  As he drove, a plane flew over his car so closely, he thought he’d be able to touch it if he reached out his window. It reminded him of the day he’d almost kissed Jenna at the ballpark, which in turn reminded him of the night he did kiss Jenna in her bed.

  That he had been able to stop himself from declaring his love and ripping her pajamas off was nothing short of a miracle. But since that night, and the night at Hank’s with Dylan, Alex knew she was off-limits, and he was starting, for the first time, to accept that. Like Steve had said, Dylan wasn’t exactly the worst person for Jenna to hook up with. Alex loved him and knew he’d treat her right. Still, he agreed with Jenna that it probably wasn’t written in the stars for them.

  Jenna had put so much effort into nationals. Scott was relentless with rehearsals, but as the dance studio owner who lived above the studio, he was always available. Jenna, on the other hand, had to give up her life to train. She worked full time at a demanding job, taught the charity classes as a favor to Scott, dealt with Alex on a daily basis, and then rushed to rehearsal. She amazed him.

  Although he was dedicated to his team and his career, Alex knew that to be the kind of friend Jenna deserved, the kind she was to him, he’d have to be at that competition by tomorrow night.

  He’d have to find a way.

  Chapter 25

  Dylan

  “Oh my Lord,” Clare whispered from the window seat. “That’s Sienna? The bitch?” She leaned to look between the first-class seats to the front row of the plane to Vegas.

  “The one and only. Except her real name is Maggie Bonaventure.”

  Clare stretched to peek over the seat to the back of the blonde head that sat three rows in front of them.

  “Holy moly,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  “Hide and hope this flight goes quickly?”

  “Of all the planes, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine,” Clare muttered.

  Dylan shook his head. “That’s the worst Bogart impression I’ve ever heard,” he whispered, trying not to draw attention.

  Clare giggled and whispered back, “You’re the actor, not me.”

  “Obviously,” he teased, checking her out as she ducked to hide behind the seats. The buttons on her thin, pink sweater strained to stay closed around her chest. He loved how she managed to look sexy and cute at the same time. “Are we going to whisper the whole flight?” he asked.

  “It goes along with your brilliant hiding plan,” Clare said. “If she has to go to the bathroom, we’re toast. You better prepare a Plan B.” She settled in her seat and flipped open a magazine.

  “You’re going to read?” he asked. “I’m in crisis here. That woman three rows up? She nearly had me packing for the monastery.”

  Clare sighed and shut her magazine. “What do you want me to do? You want me to beat her up? I would, for you. I could take her.”

  “You think so?”

  “You Hollywood types can’t hold a match to us Midwestern girls. I do yoga now too.” Clare waved her arms around into different poses.

  She froze in a karate pose, and he couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “Yeah, yoga. I’m sure that will help. You are awfully feisty today, Nebraska,” he said. “But fine. Read. I’ll sit here and wish I had a friend to help me through my crisis.”

  “For the love of God, Dylan, what do you want from me? You’ve gotten over what happened with her. Are you looking to churn up all those old feelings?”

  “No. Read.”

  “You’re such a baby. Listen, she’s a bitch,” Clare whispered, pointing up to Maggie. “Your broken heart scarred up and healed stronger. Think about Jenna. Jenna’s way prettier than that witch.” Clare opened her magazine again. As she flipped through the pages, she muttered, “Although it’s nice to see you dated a blonde.”

  “She’s not a natural blonde, trust me,” Dylan said with a smirk. “But I love blondes.”

  “Yeah, right,” Clare huffed, focusing on her magazine. “If witchy-witch gives you a hard time, don’t worry. I got your back.”

  “You’ll be my bodyguard?” he asked.

  “Nobody messes with my Lusty and gets away with it.”

  As the flight was about to take off, he glanced at the back of Maggie’s head, and a knot formed in the bottom of his stomach. The evil vibes spread toward him from the back of her seat, and he raised his silent defenses.

  Clare was right. Jenna was prettier and nicer than Maggie. So was Clare. Being with her would make the flight go by quickly, and the faster he got off the plane, the faster he could get away from Maggie.

  Soon, the Fasten Seat Belt light flashed, and the plane headed down the runway. One hour until Vegas. He’d see Jenna again.

  Dylan snuck a peek at Clare. As the plane took off, she muttered a prayer.

  She had been distant the past couple of weeks. After he’d visited her apartment and apologized for kissing her, he felt her pull away. He didn’t push—he knew they’d have time together in Vegas—but still, he wanted to make sure she was happy. His gaze fell to her lips, and he briefly thought about the kiss in the alley, then quickly pushed it out of his head.

  “Clare?”

  “Yep,” she said.

  “Why’ve you been avoiding me?” She usually responded best to straightforward, pointed questions.

  She put down her magazine and looked at him, her green eyes bright. “I don’t mean to. Not really.”

  “Oh,” Dylan said, confused.

  She turned her body to his. “In yoga class, we start the class by setting our intentions for our practice that day. The past few weeks, since I’ve been back from Nebraska, I’ve been trying to set my intentions for my life.”

  “Okay.”

  “You are my only friend here. I need to make friends and do some soul-searching about what I want to do with my life, that sort of thing. I like to think of it as ‘expanding my horizons.’” Clare held his gaze, waiting for a response.

  “I like being your friend,” Dylan said.

  “I like being yours. But you have gladiator stuff around the corner, you have Jenna now, and I know you won’t be available to me like you have been in the past—”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “I know, I know. You wouldn’t abandon me, but I need to start taking care of myself a little too. I can’t rely on you so much. You are going to be all over the place.”

  “But I want you to rely on me. Gladiators, Jenna, whatever. You are a priority for me.” Dylan didn’t want Clare to expand her horizons. He wanted to be the one to show her everything and take care of her, at least during her time in California. “You’re leaving in a few months, and we don’t have much time. So let me take care of you. Don’t be a jerk.”
>
  “A jerk?”

  “Yeah, a jerk. You’ve been a jerk the last week.”

  Dylan took the magazine off her lap and paged through it, waiting for Clare to go Nebraska on him.

  “I have not,” she said, grabbing it back.

  “Have to.” He snatched it away from her.

  As they fought over the magazine, Dylan noticed a shadow cast over them. Clare’s playful smile morphed to a determined stare and her eyes shot daggers over his head.

  “Hi, Dylan.”

  Dylan knew that voice all too well. With the dread that surrounded every thought he had about Maggie, he turned to face her.

  “Maggie,” he said. Clare closed the space between them, and he sensed Plan B was in play.

  “Going to Vegas in the middle of movie promotion? You never did take your career seriously,” Maggie chastised.

  Let the games begin. “Maggie—” he started. Then froze.

  “I’m Clare,” Clare said, saving him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “You are?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Maggie looked her up and down. “Don’t be obtuse. And I don’t appreciate that look you’re giving me.”

  Clare tensed behind him. “My look? Oh, you must mean the natural blonde look,” she retorted. He felt her chin on his shoulder and imagined her eyes locked on Maggie’s like missile launchers.

  Clare could hold her own and he didn’t have the balls to interfere, but he cleared his throat and managed to spit out, “Maggie Bonaventure. Clare Davis. Clare. Maggie.” He avoided looking directly into Maggie’s eyes so he wouldn’t get sucked into her evil vortex.

  Suddenly, Clare’s chest pressed against his back and her arms tightened around his shoulders. She nuzzled his neck with her cheek, and her breath tickled his ear, which did wonders for his efforts to ignore Maggie.

  “Funny, Dylan’s never mentioned you.”

  “Let me fill you in. He asked me to marry him in Vegas,” Maggie said.

  Clare squeezed him tighter. “Well, it’s a good thing that proposal didn’t work out and this one did.” Dylan tensed, and Clare kissed his neck. “Right, lover?”