Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3)

by Heather McVea

  Retrieving her cell phone from the back pocket of her pants, Alison held it up triumphantly. “Technology for the win. I’ll add it to your contact info.”

  Nodding, Bryce began typing just as her phone buzzed. “My cab is here.” She got up and grabbed her bag. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

  Alison’s shoulders tensed. She had forgotten that aspect of her and Bryce’s relationship, and the candor of her behavior over the past few hours suddenly felt like a repressive weight on her chest. “I’ll be there.” Her cheeks felt tight as she forced a smile.

  Bryce’s face lit up with a broad smile. “That’s - that’s great.”

  Alison followed Bryce to the front door, and they stepped around each other, both trying to open the door. “Sorry, just - I’ll get that.” Alison practically lunged toward the door.

  Bryce took a decisive step to the side and waited. “Thank you.” Putting her sunglasses on, she stepped out onto the porch.

  Alison waved as her friend walked to the waiting cab. The day had certainly not turned out as she had imagined, but minus her impersonation of a college student on a drinking binge, Alison couldn’t complain.

  ***

  “If you don’t like her, then you don’t have to date her.” Julia took a drink of the 14 Hands Cabernet Sauvignon she had insisted on ordering a bottle of, even though Alison had been emphatic that she would not be drinking during their lunch at Arcade Midtown Kitchen. She didn’t see the point in telling her sister she was still hung over from her whiskey binge the day before with Bryce.

  “Easy for you to say. I’m the one that has to sit through an awkward two hours of my life I’ll never get back.” Alison pushed the half eaten chicken breast around on her plate. She knew eating something would alleviate the constant drum roll going in her head, but her stomach felt tight and a little sour.

  “You’re so dramatic, Ali. Dating is like car shopping; you have to test drive a few lemons before you settle on the keeper.” Julia waved the waiter over. “Can we see a dessert menu, please?”

  The middle aged Hispanic man smiled, reached into his crisp, white apron, and pulled out two 3x5 cards. “Here you ladies are. If you have any questions let me know.”

  “Can I have some black coffee, please?” Alison didn’t bother to look at the dessert menu. The man nodded and left the table.

  “What’s wrong with you today?” Julia’s tone was accusatory as she finished the last of the wine in her glass. “And why haven’t you drunk any of the wine?”

  Alison was done with this outing. She had only agreed to it last minute because Julia had begged her to let her make amends for their tiff at their parents’ house, but now all Alison wanted was to leave, finish her afternoon class, and go home to bed.

  “I have to get back to campus. My class starts in less than an hour.” Alison dropped her phone in her purse and took her wallet out.

  “You’re five minutes from campus. And besides, you just ordered coffee.” Julia didn’t make eye contact with Alison as she read over the menu. “Should I have the chocolate pudding cake or the banana caramel stack?” Alison glared at her sister, a litany of insults streaming through her head.

  “Alison? I thought that was you.” Annabel Putnam was standing next to Alison and Julia’s table. She was wearing a flowing navy blue cotton skirt and a tight pale blue t-shirt that accentuated her slim build. Her long black hair hung loose over her shoulders.

  “Oh, hi, Annabel. This is my sister Julia. Julia, this is Dr. Annabel Putnam - a colleague.” Alison’s hopes of escape were fading as Julia smiled up at the professor while offering her a seat.

  “We were just going to have dessert, but please join us. I love meeting friends of Alison’s.” Sales person Julia had just kicked in.

  “Oh, I can’t. I’m meeting someone for a late lunch, and I try to avoid dessert, given the empty calories.” Annabel casually scanned the restaurant for her date.

  Alison smirked. Even outside of work, Annabel had a way of jabbing at someone without seeming any the wiser for it. She could see from her sister’s expression that Julia was not impressed. “I’m happy to report I can spare an empty calorie here or there.” Julia’s smile was forced and taut.

  Annabel looked down at Julia and smiled. “Good for you.” She then turned her attention to an amused Alison. “Do you have classes this afternoon?”

  Alison nodded, noting the frown on her sister’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Yes. Just one, and then I am heading home for a quiet evening in.”

  “Have you been out a lot lately?” The woman asked casually.

  “I wouldn’t say a lot, but-” Alison wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed and waited for Annabel’s obligatory insult.

  “Perhaps with that student of yours, what was her name again?” Just then, the woman looked up and a broad smile spread across her lips. “Excuse me, I see my lunch date.” Not waiting for a response from Julia or Alison, the woman walked toward a blonde woman in her early thirties sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant.

  “I hope you two aren’t friends.” Julia whispered as the waiter returned with Alison’s coffee.

  “No. Just colleagues.” Alison had a knot in her stomach that had nothing to do with her hangover. She couldn’t imagine why Annabel would have even remembered their brief exchange about Bryce nearly four weeks ago, much less referenced it now.

  “She was rude.” Julia handed the waiter her desert menu. “I’ll skip dessert. Can you please bring the check?”

  Alison took a sip of her coffee and leaned back in her chair. She hoped Julia hadn’t caught Annabel’s reference to Bryce, and they could forgo a continuation of an already uncomfortable lunch.

  “So who’s the student rudeness was referencing?” Julia pulled her Platinum American Express card out of her gray Miu Miu wallet.

  “I’m not sure.” In spite of her best efforts, Alison couldn’t hold eye contact with her sister long enough to execute an effective lie.

  Julia paused, her hand hovering an inch above the table, the American Express card pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you sometimes wish you could lie better, Ali?”

  Nearly spitting her coffee out, Alison wiped at her mouth with the white linen napkin. “What? I mean it; I don’t know what she was talking about.”

  “God. Terrible effort, Ali, terrible.” Julia sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “This explains your lack of interest in my candidates.”

  “No, Jules, your candidates are crap, and I would run screaming regardless of my relationship status.” Alison slid the half empty coffee cup toward the center of the table and laid her credit card down next to Julia’s.

  “You have a relationship status?” Julia smirked at her younger sister.

  “Now who’s rude?” Alison jabbed.

  “Suit yourself. God knows I have enough going on without babysitting your love life.” The waiter picked the check and credit cards up as Alison literally bit her tongue.

  Several awkward minutes later Julia was signing her credit card receipt and gathering her cell phone and purse. “This was fun.”

  Alison couldn’t tell if her sister was being ironic, but was afraid this debacle of a meal might actually constitute a good time in Julia’s mind, and that was the worst part of the entire lunch. “It was nice to see you, Jules. Take care.” Alison leaned across the table and gave the woman a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Absolutely, Ali, and good luck with that student.” Julia pulled her Range Rover keys out of her purse, a faint smile on her face.

  Alison took a deep breath. “Lovely, Jules. Bye.” Without looking back, she left her amused sister, and one of the worst lunches of her life, behind.

  Chapter 7

  Alison had been staring at herself in the rectangle shaped mirror in her bathroom for nearly two minutes. She hated how nervous she was. She was a successful professor at a respected university. Grant you, she hadn’t been on hundreds of date
s, but she had managed her fair share over the years.

  Now, with the prospect of an evening with Bryce - not even an actual date - she felt like she was twelve again, waiting for Samuel Mercer and his mom to pick her up for the school dance.

  Taking her lime green colored toothbrush from the white ceramic jar, Alison picked up the tube of Colgate and squeezed the white paste liberally on the brush’s head. Vigorously brushing along her teeth and gum line, she then stuck her tongue out and brushed back and forth for several seconds.

  She turned the tap on, rinsed the toothbrush, and put it back in its holder, before tossing the used string of floss into the metal trashcan next to her bathroom sink. Cupping her hands under the cool water, she brought it to her mouth and rinsed. She thought her brother would be pleased that she had flossed in addition to brushing and made a mental note to call and check in with him the following day.

  Looking back in the mirror, Alison managed a weak smile. It’s now or never.

  Her blonde hair looked stylishly messy, and she managed to find a suitable outfit on her first try. The evening was casual, so she wore a pair of Ralph Lauren tapered jeans, brown leather flats, and a short sleeve gray t-shirt. She had contemplated a white lace bra and matching panties, but thought better of it, and went with a plain , light blue cotton bra and underwear. No reason to get your hopes up.

  Knowing she had delayed as long as possible, and not wanting to be late, Alison grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone from the round wooden table next to the front door. Locking the door behind her, she walked to her car.

  Bryce’s street consisted of apartments that at one time had been private residences. The houses had been built on large lots near the southern most part of Alamo Heights and were on average fifty years old. Some were run down, but Bryce lived in one of the newer apartments that had clearly been renovated within the past ten years. In fact, her apartment building was eye-catching, with its fresh white paint, black trim, modern windows, and lighting fixtures.

  Alison maneuvered her Honda into a narrow parking space across the street from the duplex. She loathed parallel parking, and luckily, given San Antonio’s penchant for urban sprawl, she had very few occasions in which she had to utilize the underdeveloped skill.

  Taking her phone from the center console, Alison felt her stomach twist slightly with nerves. This was the first time she had been to Bryce’s apartment, and she wanted the evening to go smoothly. The relationship wasn’t developing as quickly, and certainly not as smoothly, as Alison had hoped, but any time with the beautiful redhead was time well spent.

  Unlocking her door, Alison glanced over her shoulder to make sure no cars were coming up the street before getting out of her car. She then crossed the street, and walked through a narrow breezeway. Alison followed the small brass plaques engraved with a range of apartment numbers.

  Arriving at apartment number three, Alison took a steading breath and knocked. A few seconds later Bryce opened the door. She was wearing a pair of slim fit Gap khaki shorts that hit just above her knees, a light blue cap sleeve Ann Taylor blouse that fit her like a glove, and her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders.

  “You made it.” Bryce smiled as she stepped to the side so Alison could walk in.

  Alison wondered if the woman ever had a bad hair day. “Drove here like I knew where I was going.” Stepping past Bryce, the familiar citrus and vanilla scent wafted over Alison, and she willed herself not to take a deeper breath.

  Bryce shut the door and stood looking awkwardly at Alison. “I - ah - guess a tour is in order, so if you do a slow three sixty, that will about cover it.” The woman made a circular motion with her index finger.

  Alison chuckled and turned around. The apartment was a small efficiency with a half wall dividing the living and bedroom area from the narrow, galley kitchen. It was sparsely decorated with a thirty inch flat screen television sitting atop a small oak cabinet, a dark blue Chesterfield style sofa, and a round-end table that matched the television cabinet. She assumed the door to the left of the kitchen was the bathroom.

  The floor was a distressed light maple, with coordinated maple trim throughout the space. The walls were smooth and painted light beige. “I like the color, and the floor is gorgeous.”

  Bryce walked around Alison and into the kitchen. “The leasing agent called it champagne beige, and evidently, the color in the bathroom is what they call Dresden blue.” The woman shook her head. “Whatever that means.”

  Alison crossed the small space and leaned on the half wall. “It means someone in the marketing department was feeling creative that day.”

  Bryce nodded. “It wouldn’t occur to me to name paint after a city in Germany.” Opening the cabinet to her right, the woman looked at Alison. “Would you like something to drink before we go out? I have Bushmill or red wine.”

  “Considering our last outing - and the fact I don’t want to completely humiliate myself at the bowling alley - I’ll stick with wine.” An embarrassed flush spread across Alison’s cheeks at the memory of her untimely intoxication a few days prior.

  Bryce frowned. “It wasn’t a big deal.” She retrieved a cork screw from a nearby drawer.

  “It never is to the sober one.” Alison teased as she turned around to more fully inspect the apartment. “Sleeper sofa?”

  A faint pop sounded as Bryce removed the cork from a bottle of Excelsior Cabernet Sauvignon. “What?”

  Alison looked back at Bryce. “No bed. I assume the sofa folds out?” She wondered why she had chosen to talk about the woman’s bed within five minutes of arriving.

  “Yes.” Bryce poured a generous glass of wine and handed it to Alison. “Feel free to have a seat.”

  Alison walked to the sofa and sat down. Crossing her legs, she scanned the space. The walls were bare, but in the corner opposite the couch there were over fifty books stacked neatly against the wall and piles of magazines. “Do much reading?” She asked as Bryce joined her on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand.

  “I enjoy a good book.” Tucking her leg under her, she sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Alison.

  Getting up, and placing her glass of wine on the short, round oak end table, Alison knelt down next to the stacks of books. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Her eyes scanned the small library. “I’m impressed. To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone with the Wind, Catch-22, Dracula, Of Mice and Men. Christ, Bryce, it’s a summer reading list.” She ran her index finger along the spine of each book as she read. “Oh, wait, what’s this? Bridget Jones’ Diary - not on a summer reading list.”

  Next to the books was a stack of eclectic magazines. “The Economist, Entertainment Weekly, Popular Science, Wine Spectator, Southern Living.” Alison stopped as her eyes fell on the magazine near the bottom of the pile. “Maxim?” Still on her knees, Alison twisted around to look at an embarrassed Bryce.

  “I thought it was a philosophy magazine. You understand, maxim, as in a general truth or rule of conduct.” Rubbing the back of her neck she kept her eyes averted. “Sadly scantily clad women are not a general rule of conduct.”

  Alison laughed. “No, but they may constitute a general truth.” Bryce looked up and smiled, clearly pleased with their banter. “Do you have a favorite book?”

  Shrugging, Bryce set her wine glass on the floor next to the sofa, walked over to Alison, and crouched down next to her. “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

  The two women’s eyes met, and Alison was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss the beautiful redhead. Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she managed to refocus her attention back to the conversation at hand. “Why?”

  Bryce was silent for several seconds, her eyes fixed on Alison. “His beauty is a mask, a lie. He’s rotten and tainted inside from years of sin.”

  Alison was surprised by how adamant Bryce sounded. “Sin? I’m surprised you used that word.”

  Bryce reached for the book, removing it from under a copy of A Room with a View. “I just mean th
e selfishness, the unchecked lust and greed.” Standing up, the woman looked down at Alison. “I don’t mean to assign a moral value to his actions, but he clearly thought only of himself and that hurt the people around him.”

  Alison stood and faced Bryce, who was looking intently at the book in her hand. “There wasn’t a right or wrong answer. I was curious, that’s all.”

  Bryce looked up, her brow furrowed, and Alison waited, thinking the woman was going to speak. But after a few awkward moments, Bryce laid the book back on the stack and walked to the sofa. “I’ve managed to get through a few movies since we first met.” Pointing to the cabinet the television sat on, Bryce picked up her glass of wine as she sat on the sofa. “They’re in there.”

  Amazed at her friend’s ability to change conversation topics at will, Alison scooted on her knees the few feet to the cabinet. “A few movies?” The two shelves inside the cabinet were lined with DVDs, barely leaving room for the DVD player itself.

  “I bought some I haven’t had a chance to watch yet.” Bryce took a drink of her wine.

  “Cool Hand Luke? Did you get this because of my referencing it the other day?” Alison pulled the DVD out and examined the case.

  “Yes.” Bryce said simply.

  Alison pushed herself up to her feet, and carrying the DVD, walked back to the couch. “I should think of other ways to use that power.”

  Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “What power?”

  Sitting down next to the woman, Alison grinned. “The power of suggestion.” The nearness of Bryce, and the coziness of the space, made Alison not want to leave the apartment. She had a rush of contentment at the idea of simply sitting with the woman and talking or watching a movie. She handed the DVD to an amused Bryce. “Would you be disappointed if we stayed in and watched a movie instead of going out?”

  Bryce frowned. “You want to skip the bowling?”

  Alison shrugged. “I kinda suck at it, and hanging here with you would be far less damaging to my ego than humiliating myself in public.”