by Alexa Day
“You’re early?”
Heat rose to her cheeks despite the evening chill. Did she seem too eager? Did that matter anymore?
“I hope you haven’t been standing out here for long,” he said. He came up the few steps toward her, making his way past her to the front door.
“Just a few minutes,” she said. “Not long enough to walk back to the car.”
John unlocked the door and let them into the elegant space beyond, its vaulted ceiling lit by the ornate iron chandelier. They went up the stairs to his door.
“I thought you would be here when I got here,” Grace said.
“Yeah, I was going for that too.” He opened the door and stood back to let her precede him. “But you know. Work.”
Grace took off her coat while John shut the door behind them. “Worse than usual?”
“Little bit, yeah.” He took her coat and hung it next to his on the hooks near the door. “Just lots of things happening at once.”
Grace stepped out of her shoes and headed for the couch while her friend went for the kitchen, dropping his messenger bag on the way. She settled into the familiar corner of the couch and turned on the tall lamp that stood behind her. They went through the same choreography whenever she came over, as if they lived together.
This felt normal. She’d wrapped Christmas presents on the floor there by the fireplace. She’d brought over hot-and-sour soup when John lay on this very couch, wrapped in a blanket with the flu. They’d watched the last episode of ER here because they knew they could count on each other not to talk until the commercial breaks. In the difficult days between boyfriends, she’d eaten ice cream and drowned her sorrows with bourbon and gathered the strength to move forward.
This was normal, the first thing to feel normal in a long time. How could anything bad happen here?
“Want a drink?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Is that kosher?”
The rich ripple of his laughter reminded her of their situation. “I think we’re kind of past that now, Grace.”
“Well, are you drinking?” She smiled at the thought of joining him as he bent this one last rule.
“Yep. Jack and Coke. And believe me, if there was any way I could have done this for all the interviews, I would have.”
She smiled at the thought of sharing cocktails with him in that prison cell where they had been meeting. “In that case, I’ll have one too. Can’t have you drinking by yourself.”
“You got it.”
Grace let her head fall onto the back of the couch and closed her eyes, listening to him opening the cabinets, to the clinking of ice in the glasses. What would this be like every day? Her imagination gradually pulled her away to another evening in the future. He’d bring her a drink and they’d talk about their long day apart. She’d put her head on his shoulder. Maybe they’d watch the flames in his fireplace in silence. Maybe then he’d reach up to turn out the lamp. He’d lower his arm around her and she’d look up to find herself so close to him, close enough to—
Her eyes burned. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to the seams of her eyelids and found them wet.
Whatever is suddenly wrong with you, you need to handle it. Now.
“Okay. Now we’re ready.” She opened her eyes and the sight of him standing over her, holding their drinks, pushed her back into her domestic fantasy with so much force that she had to anchor herself in reality with a long breath. She reached for her glass, nearly dropping it as she tried to avoid brushing her fingers against his. “Got it?”
“Yeah.” She cradled the glass in both hands and sat up. “Sorry.”
His smile made her self-conscious. Did he think he needed to reassure her? He put the other glass on the coffee table and went back to the messenger bag for his legal pad and a couple of pencils. “You ready to start?” he asked.
“Sure.” Grace set her glass on the table and then laced her fingers together on her lap. She’d tried hard not to think about what this interview was going to be like. The prospect of it made her queasy. But she’d known from the beginning that this little sexual joyride wouldn’t be totally free of consequences. “How did you want to go about doing this?”
“We could just do it the way we usually do.” He sat down next to her and set the spare pencil on the table. “Just like normal, plus a drink, minus the tape recorder.”
“No tape recorder this time?” she asked.
He rested the legal pad on his knee. “I thought it best not to have a recording of how I watched my best friend with her partner as they had intercourse under the influence of a product we’re still testing.”
“Good thought.” Her hands twisted together as she watched him write the date in the top corner of the page. Her throat tightened with each stroke of his pencil. “Actually, can we…can we just talk about this?”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said that to a man. Most of them would rather hear the first few bars of Dueling Banjos coming from the darkness beyond the campfire. She knew John was different, but his quizzical expression behind those glasses wasn’t exactly encouraging.
“Nothing really different, just not as structured as usual.” She willed her voice not to break. “Please?”
His brows drew together and she wondered if he was about to protest or ask questions. She tried to decide which would be worse. But after a moment, he just nodded and leaned forward to set the legal pad and the pencil on the table next to his drink.
“Thanks.” Her deep breath didn’t steady her as much as she had hoped and she pushed her palms together. “I guess this has been harder than I thought it would be.”
“It has?” he asked. Then, when some small part of her had begun to anticipate an apology, he asked, “How so?”
She wanted to tell him what it was like to kiss him. That she was in a fog just dense enough to stop her from considering the consequences but not thick enough to obscure her actions completely. That wasn’t where he seemed to be headed though, and she didn’t want to go there alone. She turned away from him and gazed into the space just beyond the coffee table.
“Grace.” She waited for him to continue but looked up at him when he didn’t. Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I guess what I keep coming back to is this. Are you sorry? Do you regret doing this?”
She looked down into her drink as if it were a Magic 8 Ball, with all the answers floating there among the ice cubes. She gave the glass a little twist, hoping that some resolution would rise up to meet her. Hell, she’d even settle for “Ask Again Later”.
“No,” she said. “I mean, it was weird. Strange. To have you watching us.”
“Strange how?”
Grace realized she didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the particular brand of strange that suited this occasion. “I don’t know really.”
“Creepy?” John suggested.
“No,” she answered. “Not creepy at all. Just… I didn’t mind knowing you were out there. Not at the time.” She met his eyes again. “That stuff really makes you crazy, John.”
He turned toward her, resting his arm on the back of the couch, so close to her that he could brush her hair away from her face if he extended his long fingers toward her. “Do you…do you wish you hadn’t?”
“It’s not that easy,” she said. “You know, that’s like a normal conversation. You do something crazy like this and then right afterward you wish you hadn’t.”
He pushed his glasses up. He did understand how far away this was from normal, didn’t he?
“But what was it like, Grace? What did you feel?”
“I’m so used to feeling powerful after I take it. And I did for a while. Everyone’s eyes on me.” She relaxed into his couch and wished she could be closer to him, with his arms around her as he spoke about anything in the world but this. “I’m not going to lie. It felt good. But that’s my point.”
He raised his eyebrow. “What is?”
“You don’t really feel anything while
you’re on Impulse. While it’s working.” She looked away from his efforts to make sense of what she was saying. “I didn’t realize any of this until you touched me.”
She heard him moving, making the leather creak. “I still don’t follow you.”
“It’s more than just wanting the sex. It’s like that’s all there is. I didn’t, you know, get that until you were there. See, that’s basically what it feels like all the time with Tal. But if it can make me feel like that with you…” She put her hands over her face, hoping he wouldn’t see all the fantasies she’d indulged in. In his mind, she was still a test subject. She had access to his couch and his liquor and all the comfort a good friend could provide, but she’d never be more to him than that, and suddenly what she had just wasn’t enough anymore.
Her eyes were watering again.
“You okay?” Without looking at him, she could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to touch her shoulder.
She nodded and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah.” She sat up and put her hands back into her lap. The air was cool on her heated skin. “Sorry. It’s tough to remember all that.” She tried to smile. “You know, the high on that stuff is amazing, but coming down is a little tougher every time.”
He reached for her, brushing her cheek with the backs of his long fingers. “I’m sorry.” His whisper made her eyes burn again, and this time, he caught her tear with his thumb as it made its way down her cheek. “I’m really sorry.”
Unbidden, her hand moved to cover his, responding to a need that the rest of her longed to acknowledge. “It’s not your fault. I started this.”
He shook his head. “I started it, Grace.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Grace closed her eyes and inhaled, catching the faint scent of him, something warm and sweet, before she took his hand away from her face. “Right?”
She watched him search for what to say next. She knew he’d come up with the right thing to tell her. She also knew she couldn’t bear to hear him say that he hadn’t meant to interfere with her and Tal, that he hoped his own friendship with her was intact, or something else that would be comforting if she weren’t in such a fucked-up state of mind.
Grace glanced at her watch without noticing the time. “I should go.”
He blinked. “Right now?”
“Yeah.” She made one last try to collect herself before standing. “I’m really sorry. Will you let me know if you need anything else?”
He rose to join her. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”
She led John across the room to her coat and he took it down and held it while she slid into it. Once her arms were in the sleeves, he took hold of her shoulders.
“Don’t run off.” His whisper caressed the exposed skin beneath her ear and she turned to face him. “You don’t have to run off. Not like this.”
She wanted something so simple. She wanted to thank him for drying her tears. No words would measure up, and so she went up on tiptoe to press her lips to the cool, sweet-smelling smoothness of his cheek. His arms slowly closed around her and they faced each other, almost nose-to-nose. She bit her lip and stared at the firm line of his mouth.
He would restore her peace. He would see through all the chaos and all the mistakes and all the rough places in her heart and make everything all right.
Then morning would come with the truth.
She lowered herself back onto her heels. She was his best friend. For now, she was his test subject. She almost became the teary-eyed little basket case who threw herself at him.
She patted his chest with her hand and he let go of her.
“It’s okay.” She met his gaze and hoped she was convincing him.
His shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “Okay.”
“Call me.” She got her purse over her shoulder as he opened the door for her. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
She went out into the hallway and looked back at him. They waved at each other like people who only knew each other through an absent mutual friend. Then she headed down the stairs, listening for the sound of his door closing behind her.
Damn.
Grace headed down glistening sidewalks toward the Cuban place and her car. Her mental defenses weakened as she hurried along. He’d been only a breath away from her. She could have just brushed her lips over his, like she had in the hallway so long ago, and let things unfold from there, without a care for what would come in the morning.
She sucked in a breath of frosty air as she turned the corner near where she’d parked. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and let herself into her car. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The whole idea, she’d thought, was that she wasn’t supposed to feel confused and weird about this. Everything was supposed to be easier. Why wasn’t it easier?
She tossed her scarf onto the passenger seat, shoved the key into the ignition, and wrapped her fingers tightly around the wheel. She couldn’t go back. She’d redrawn the line in the sand, the one that had always separated them, and now she had to respect that boundary. Still she didn’t really want to go home. If she went home, she’d just look up at the ceiling and analyze this until she finally fell asleep.
She started the car and pushed the slide for the heater all the way to the right. The air coming from the vents slowly turned warm as the engine ran and she considered her destination.
Tal. He understood the male mind. More importantly he understood her. He’d help her sort this out.
When she made her first pass by Tal’s, starting her circular search for somewhere to park, she noticed his place was in darkness. She knew he was supposed to be out with one of his many female acquaintances, a classmate or someone who was about to be married. Grace was sure he’d be home by now. He wasn’t the sort to hang out until last call, not with clients coming the next morning.
She completed her quest for a parking space in record time and turned the engine off. Mist gathered on her windshield. Should she walk all the way back there on the off chance he’d gotten home? That didn’t seem to make a lot of sense, but neither did going home to make herself crazy all night long.
She got out of the car and pulled her scarf over her hair. She’d come this far. She had to be sure he wasn’t home before she left.
Trying to keep out of the chilly moisture, she walked in the shadows cast by awnings and porticoes until she was across the street from her destination. Tal and his friend emerged from the dark into the pale light of the streetlamp in front of his door. Grace smiled. She knew she’d been right to try this.
Just as she started across the street, she noticed that Tal was holding his friend’s hand. He’d seemed upset with her the last time they’d spoken, but Tal could be quick to mend his fences. Good. This way, maybe she could get a woman’s—
And then he kissed her.
Grace froze mid-step. When Tal’s mysterious friend wrapped her arms around his shoulders, Grace realized all at once that she was standing in the road and retreated back to the far side of the intersection, back into the shadows.
The sight of them mesmerized her. This wasn’t the way Tal usually kissed. His hands went to his friend’s waist and stayed there. Even at this distance, she could see that he held this woman as if she would shatter or evaporate at the slightest provocation. They were so still for so long that Grace realized she was holding her breath.
She began to back away from them. If they saw her, there would be awkward introductions, halfhearted invitations—and that was the best-case scenario. She knew he wouldn’t see her now if she kept moving. Hell, he wasn’t even looking. But she still didn’t feel safe until she’d shut her car door behind her.
Grace sat behind the wheel in the dark, her scarf loosely draped over her hair, her purse on her lap. He hadn’t said anything about this. They didn’t owe each other anything; they’d agreed on that long ago. They had promised to tell each other if there was ever another party in the equation though. It just seemed safer that way.
&
nbsp; So how had this happened? When had he planned to tell her?
Had he planned to tell her?
She started the car and numbly pulled the scarf off. Damn. She hadn’t asked him for much.
Had she?
* * * * *
John stood at the French doors long after Grace had disappeared into the rainy night and he watched the droplets of water swirl in the cone of light cast by the street lamp.
Well, now he knew.
After all this, the awkward silence, his respectful distance, his willingness to leave his comfort zone far, far behind, this was the beginning of the end.
This wasn’t the first time she’d chosen her own bed over his place. She was always so careful to make all the right polite excuses about early-morning appointments, not wanting to impose, wanting to keep out of his way. He, in turn, would smile and nod like a good friend should, and they’d go their separate ways until the next time.
Watching her last week had been incredible, but something between them felt unfinished, even then. Something stretched tightly between them like a bowstring.
Like the breath they’d both been holding by the door just then.
He backed away from the window. She’d gone to Tal. Her coat was probably drying near one of his radiators right now.
John lay down on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes. If he tried, he could just catch the faintest hint of her shampoo. The memory of her riding Tal hard, the breathy moans she made while he pumped himself into his own hand in the darkness, all that had gotten him through the week. She’d surpassed his imagination, and then she’d conquered it.
Are you sorry?
No.
Not really.
He groaned. More than anything that anyone else had tried, his experiment—and then hers—had proved that Impulse worked. He should be elated instead of trying to parse how bad the present developments should be making him feel.
Was he sorry?
He wouldn’t think about it now. He wouldn’t think about Tal or his radiators or what the two of them were doing either.
That left the audit committee. Tomorrow was his day in the sun. Plenty to think about there.
