Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  “Okay.” I hooked my ankle on my knee and leaned back against the couch, mulling over her choice of words. “And what if you do? I don’t mean to sound callous, but will it be the end of the world if you’re not valedictorian? Will you not still graduate in the top five percent of your class? Will you not still be a doctor?”

  She wrapped her arms around her torso as if suddenly chilled. The light in her eyes grew dim. “I’ll still be a doctor, but I’ve worked very hard to be valedictorian. I won’t get into the internship program at the Mayo Clinic.”

  “Are there other internships?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “Well, yeah, but none that hold such distinction.”

  I was quiet for a minute, my thoughts circling. I understood and applauded Alexa’s drive. It was admirable to have such determination, but her worry over this one event seemed extreme. A single-minded goal could be as destructive as it was rewarding, and losing sight of everything else was dangerous.

  She was a definite overachiever, that was for sure. The way she sat there, looking at me with big eyes sprinkled with sadness and vulnerability, made me think of a child who was lost and afraid. She made me think of…myself.

  Where was the lively girl who took me to task, who sharpened my wits and kept me on my toes? Her wonderful laughter was gone, replaced with profound melancholy. I’d never seen this side of her. She looked so incredibly fragile that I felt the emotion like a punch in the gut. It was an old ache that throbbed back to life. It pained me to see her so forlorn, so discouraged.

  My eyes caught sight of a leftover piece of chicken on my plate. Leaning forward, I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger, then smiled and jiggled it in front of her face.

  She startled and scooted back, tracking me like I’d lost my mind.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to swat my hand away, but I kept shaking and wiggling the strip of chicken.

  She huffed her irritation, but a giggle bubbled out of her. “You are crazy! What are you doing?”

  “Guess!” I encouraged, laughing.

  “My guess is that you’ve lost your damn mind!” she exclaimed when I turned the chicken over and over, making it do jumps and flips.

  “Guess.”

  “N-no.”

  “I’m you, Stats! Dancing! Look,” I said, making the strip quake and shiver. “The chicken’s having seizures.”

  Alexa clamped her lips together, but her cheeks ballooned with suppressed laughter.

  “You know you want to laugh…” I teased, shaking the chicken wildly.

  She shook her head, but her lips jerked uncontrollably.

  “Yes you do… C’mon, this shit’s funny!” I wrapped it around a chopstick, sliding it up and down. “Look, you’re pole dancing!”

  “Y-you aaaare n-n-uts!” She could barely get the words out around her giggles.

  “Now you’re break-dancing—naked.” I danced the chicken around the table, spinning it around and around. A second later, she exploded with laughter. The sound hit all my nerve endings, buzzing them with a rush of exhilaration.

  “You’re insane!” she declared, her shoulders quivering as she completely lost the battle. Laughter rolled out in beautifully undignified waves. Choppy. Foamy water rippling over pebbles.

  She leaned back against the cushion, wiping beneath her glasses where mirthful tears had settled.

  I couldn’t stop staring, exceptionally happy that her sadness was gone.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Alexa breathe between giggles. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”

  My hand stilled. My face grew serious. The muscles in my back tightened. “My mother didn’t tell me anything. She took off when I was a kid. I was abandoned on the doorstep of a church when I was five years old.”

  I don’t know what made me confess that piece of my past at that particular moment, but as soon as the words left my lips, I wanted to suck them back in. No one else knew my history except for Henry, and the many social workers and psychologists who’d departed from my life long ago.

  Alexa froze, sitting up on the couch, tilting her head as she searched my face, trying to grope beneath my stiff expression. Her features turned soft and she cleared her throat. I sat absolutely still, bitter regret worming its way through me. My insides churned.

  What the fuck had I told her that for?

  My face was hot with shame. I didn’t want words of pity, or hackneyed platitudes. I didn’t want her feeling sorry for me. I’d hated the looks of pity the social workers used to shovel at me, the empty condolences for my utter misfortune. None of it brought my mother back. They’d treated me like a lost puppy. I used to think that if they’d just tack my picture up on a tree, my mother would see that I was missing and come back for me. But that never happened.

  Shit, I needed to leave.

  Before I could push myself off the couch, Alexa inched closer. Her soft palm found mine, then the warmth of her body surrounded me. Stilled me. Her arms snaked around my torso and her head landed on my chest. She didn’t say a word, thankfully not one goddamn thing.

  Her hold was tight, like she didn’t plan on ever letting go. And right then I didn’t want her to. I settled my chin on top of her head and listened to the quiet saw of her breath. It soothed me, spoke gently to my soul. And it wasn’t awkward at all.

  It wasn’t weird or uncomfortable that my friend was holding me, that this aching quiet was as fresh and as pure as the honesty of the my emotions in that moment. It was totally perfect.

  Moments later, Alexa pulled back and looked up at me. She adjusted her glasses, sighing softly, a sound that whispered over my skin.

  “I wish I’d gotten a picture of that. That piece of chicken belongs on the wall of fame.”

  I laughed, trying not to think about what I’d revealed, what I was feeling. She resumed her spot on the other couch.

  “Of course. It had the best dance partner.” I winked.

  “Good to see those two plates of rhythm didn’t go to waste.” She grinned. Her face sobered. “Thank you for that. I needed the laugh after my awful day.”

  I shrugged. “What are friends for?” Sitting back, my gaze met hers. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Stats. It would be great if you’re valedictorian, but if you’re not, it’s not the end of the world. Sometimes just knowing that you tried your very best is a reward in itself. You’re a smart girl, and I have a feeling you’ll be successful at whatever you do.”

  Alexa was looking at me like I’d lost my mind again, and maybe I had. I’d never been a pep-talking, philosophical kind of guy. Maybe all that chicken-dancing and those warm fuzzies had twisted up my brain. Considering how loose my tongue was tonight, I didn’t doubt it. I laughed it off and shrugged again.

  “Just sayin’.”

  A tender smile filled her cheeks and her eyes teared up again, only this time it wasn’t from laughter.

  Aw, shit…I wasn’t prepared for so much emotion tonight. This was a whole new ballgame for me. A female friend.

  I couldn’t help wondering, though, if I’d get another hug.

  “Thank you,” she said, wiping her eyes. She stood and wrapped her arms around her torso, her gaze swiveling to the door in the room. She gnawed her bottom lip, letting a line of worry mark her brow. Eyes flickering nervously, she eyed the door again. I wondered what was going through her mind.

  “Um…I told Monika I’d call her tonight. She was really torn up about what happened. I don’t want it to get too late.”

  Growing more and more anxious the longer she stood there, it was obvious she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with her friend. I nodded, scooting forward and looking at my watch. “No prob, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll just clean up this mess.”

  “No.” Her palm shot up. “I-I didn’t mean that you should leave. I just need about ten—fifteen minutes or so…my call shouldn’t take long.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to go? It’s la
te.”

  She shook her head then shot me a teasing smile. “I’m sure. After my call, maybe you can teach me some of your fancy dance moves.”

  “Bet.” I grinned, giving her the thumbs up before she disappeared through the door and closed it firmly behind her.

  I shoved my fingers into my hair, laughing. Shit, I was in trouble. My dance moves were no better than the jiggling chicken’s.

  Luckily, I was spared. Alexa emerged from the other room twenty minutes later, not up to dancing. She looked exhausted, pale. After the day she’d had, I could understand. I wondered if her conversation with Monika had become contentious. I’d heard the water running and wondered if she’d been trying to drown out her raised voice.

  “Everything okay?”

  She nodded, but still didn’t seem herself. “I’m just tired.”

  I’d cleared off the table while she was gone, and now we sat leaning back on our respective couches. “Relax. Everything’s cleaned up.”

  “Thank you.” With a sigh, she curled up on the couch facing me, her hands tucked under her cheek. I let my gaze slide to those pink toes before it returned to her face. Damn, they were sexy as hell.

  Her lips pulled in a slow smile. I followed the full, pink curve as she started talking.

  “When I was a kid, I used to play this game…”

  My eyebrow arched, curiosity piqued. Seeing that she wasn’t about to kick me out of her apartment, I toed off my shoes and reclined on my back, palms cradling my head. My feet hung over the arm of the couch, but other than that, I was pretty comfortable. The room was quiet. A hypnotic comfort settled over me, a slow pulse that lulled me to contentment. I hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Alexa’s voice drifted to me.

  “When I was a kid, I used to pretend that I wasn’t me, that I wasn’t human. I could be anything in the universe.”

  I smiled, thinking of Alexa as a kid with her huge glasses and oversized clothes. She probably went around quoting kids the probability of her whooping their butts.

  “What would you pretend to be?”

  She took a long time to respond. “Different things, but I liked pretending to be a star, a star way up in the sky,” she whispered softly.

  “Hmm?” That surprised me.

  “Far, far away, where no one could touch me, where no one could see me. All they would see is a giant glow. I would always be bright and shining. Beautiful. Little kids would look up and make wishes. And I’d grant them all.”

  It would be just like her to want to grant wishes to children. I wondered if she was thinking about the little boy who’d died again.

  “What would you be?” she asked.

  I thought for a moment. “A couch potato.”

  She giggled. “Dex! Be serious! Plus, you can’t be human.”

  I turned on my side. Our eyes met. Hers were very blue, glowing like beautiful stars dotting a night sky.

  “I am serious. I don’t mean a person who sits around on the couch all day. I mean an actual potato on a couch. I’d like to be a potato.”

  She laughed again and I continued. “Can you imagine how good a soft couch must feel to a potato, with all its knots and grooves?”

  She laughed and the sounded landed in my heart.

  I kept going, basically spewing nonsense, but she kept laughing and making that soft, sighing sound that brushed against my skin and stirred the hair on the back of my neck. So, I kept talking.

  Alexa had never been to my apartment, and I knew it was stupid, but I was kinda nervous. It wasn’t that my apartment wasn’t nice. It was a three-bedroom penthouse, on the top of a skyscraper, looking over Central Park. But as a single man who lived on his own, had no family, and traveled a lot, I’d never really settled in, never really found a place for everything. Okay, I was a slob.

  Five years ago I’d signed the lease, started over. I’d been looking for a place to run to after my relationship ended. I realized that now, because in my right mind, I never would’ve chosen such a rambling space. I literally lived in two of the eight oversized rooms. Three, tops, if you counted the bathroom. But the penthouse was near my office and it had a huge home theater. So, I’d been sold.

  I guess I just wasn’t used to having company. If I entertained a woman here, it was for one purpose only, and I never let her stick around long enough to get comfortable or to try to clean up.

  My meetings had run long today, but I was in a good mood. I’d gotten the Spider back from the shop and she looked like the prized vehicle she was. Unable to resist, I’d taken her for a quick spin before tucking her back into her private spot in the garage under the building, giving me just enough time to pick up a few groceries and head home.

  Alexa was due any minute for dinner. Although I rarely cooked, it was something I enjoyed doing. I figured we’d eat and then relax in the home theater and watch a movie. She’d said she liked old horror movies.

  The theater had been designed to look just like a movie theater and could hold about fifteen people. It was equipped with a projector screen that took up one wall, surround sound, and stacked rows of bucket seats that came with plastic cup holders. The only things missing were popcorn on the floor and wads of chewed gum stuck to the back of the chairs. After Alexa and I were done with it, I had no doubt it would be effectively broken in.

  Unpacking the groceries, I checked a clock on the kitchen wall. Shit! I was still in my suit and the apartment was a mess. I put the potatoes on to boil, then rushed around the apartment doing a quick man-sweep. Basically anything that didn’t belong on the floor got swept under a large piece of furniture. I was taking a survey of the room when my doorman rang up to announce Alexa’s arrival. A few minutes later she rang the doorbell.

  Inhaling deeply, I cursed my jitters, cursed myself for feeling like an idiot. Stats was cool. She wouldn’t give a shit how messy my apartment was.

  Pulling open the door, I absorbed her smile. Her face was radiant, and her eyes bright. Something kicked hard in my chest, as it did each time I saw her.

  “Do you get nose bleeds up here?” she asked, strolling into the room. She handed me a bottle of wine and the popcorn. I thanked her, placing the items on a nearby table.

  “No, but the air is thinner this high up, so there’s less oxygenation to the brain. If I start to act like Jack Nicholson from The Shining, just give me some mouth-to-mouth, and I’ll be okay.”

  She turned to me and laughed, a beautifully robust sound.

  “If you start to act like Jack Nicholson from The Shining, I’ll have to act like Kathy Bates from Misery and turn your legs into stumps.”

  “Ouch. She was one tough cookie. I don’t think even Jack would mess with her.” I waggled my brows as I took her coat. “Does that mean no on the mouth-to-mouth?”

  She rolled her eyes and pushed me playfully. I wanted to imagine it was flirtatious, but Stats didn’t do flirtatious. She wanted me to drop it.

  “Please don’t tell me that’s the movie we’re seeing.” She shook her head gravely.

  I walked into the kitchen to check the potatoes. She trailed behind me. We passed several items on the floor I’d missed: a derelict pair of shoes and socks along with a messy set of golf clubs that had been abandoned since the summer. She didn’t even bat an eye. Awesome.

  “When you said old horror movie, I was thinking Hitchcock, maybe John Carpenter. I love The Thing,” she said, watching me as I pulled out the ingredients for a salad from the fridge. I handed her a bowl. She started pouring lettuce in while I took out the two steaks I’d bought.

  “The Shining is classic horror. They don’t make movies like that anymore,” I stated.

  “How about Psycho? Now that’s classic horror. It’s considered the mother of all modern horror-suspense.”

  “C’mon, Stats! Jack’s the man!” I turned from seasoning the steaks and gave her an animated Nicholson impression. “Heeeeere’s Johnny!”

  Her lips twitched even though she was trying hard not to laugh. A stray
curl escaped her ponytail, brushed her cheek. My fingers itched to test its softness, to slide it behind her ear.

  “I think that lack-of-oxygen thing is kicking in,” she responded dryly, pushing up her glasses.

  She always did that. I wondered if it was just a quirky habit, or if they really were ill-fitting and too big for her face.

  I laughed off her comment and turned back to the steaks, but as usual we got into a heated discussion, debating the best old horror movies. I laughed my ass off when she did an awful impression of Linda Blair from The Exorcist, and she pretended to be upset because I laughed instead of trembled with terror.

  I left her in the kitchen to go change, stoked to have her in my space, in my life. I pulled on an old pair of jeans, grabbed a T-shirt out of a drawer, then headed back to the kitchen bare-chested. In the doorway, I scrunched up the shirt to tug over my head. She looked up from chopping carrots and her gaze moved slowly over my shoulders, chest, and abdomen. For the first time in my life I was glad I went to the gym as much as I did, and ran four times a week. The faded jeans hung pretty low on my hips and I had to force myself not to look down when her gaze hit my innie and trailed lower. Lingered.

  Fuck!

  The look on her face caused my breath to catch, set my skin on fire. I felt her gaze like a hot touch, and of course, I took my time pulling on my shirt. I stepped into the kitchen and her cheeks colored a pretty pink as I got closer. I tried not to think about what I knew was going on below my waist.

  She abruptly turned back to the carrots. I pulled open the fridge door, pretending to look for something because I needed to hide the shit-eating grin splitting open my face. God, I really was an idiot, getting all excited because a girl was checking me out.

  Not any girl. Stats.

  Composed, and finished with the stern lecture to my erection, I tossed the steaks in the broiling pan and tucked them into the broiler. Alexa mashed potatoes while I reached for a few plates.

  I stopped. Something was burning. The smell hit my nose hard. Alexa turned from her task, a frown on her face.

  “Shit!” Quickly I grabbed a set of pot holders and pulled open the small door to the broiler. Plumes of black smoke billowed out. I batted them away, more worried about dinner than anything else. The sound of grease sizzling sang in my ears, then a wave of heat and light hit me. The steaks were on fire. I cursed rapidly and pulled out the tray, trying to avoid the leaping gold flames. Thank God, the steaks were safe, but the pan had accumulated oil and must’ve been too close to the burner. In two seconds I had the small fire extinguished, and was patting myself on the back that I’d saved dinner.