by Meg Maguire
“Libby?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you had your keys on you,” Colin said. “I need to head out soon, but you should feel free to stick around, take a shower. Let your head dull a bit. Reece is teaching through the afternoon.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Colin finished his toast and dusted the crumbs off the counter. “Sorry I can’t hang out longer.”
“Don’t be silly. Thanks for breakfast. And my puke bucket.”
“Thank you for not puking.” Colin smiled and clapped her gently on the back, the contact so familiar. She watched him walk to his room and heard the Velcro of his bag ripping as he got ready to leave.
He reappeared, pulling his gloves on. “When do I see you next?”
“Oh, I dunno. Soon, probably.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Colin…”
“Yeah?”
“Did I say why I came over here last night?”
“Not particularly,” he said, shifty.
“Are you lying to me?”
Colin tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Why do you usually come over here?”
“Well…”
“To try and have your way with one of the blokes who lives in this flat, right?”
“Partly,” she admitted.
“Well, let’s say that last night was no different. You’re just lucky Reece wasn’t in when you turned up.”
She groaned. “I’ll bet.”
“But don’t worry,” Colin began, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of Libby’s head.
“Ow.”
“Booze isn’t the truth serum everyone makes it out to be.” He walked to the living room.
Libby hurried to the threshold after him. “Why? What did I say?”
“Just a bit of nonsense. Trust me, it wasn’t you talking.” There was something melancholy in his expression when he said this. He tugged his shoes on.
“Tell me,” Libby said.
He smiled and stood. “Can’t. I’ve already forgotten what it was. I’ll see you later, then.”
Libby wished she could turn a dimmer switch down on the sun. She shielded her eyes from the glare bouncing off the post office’s front door. A bell jingled as she entered, painfully cheerful in her ears. She dug out her key and opened her post office box.
Flipping through the thin stack of envelopes, she scanned for the immigration bureau’s return address. Any day now she’d be hearing about her visa extension…but not today.
Her hangover redoubled as she came to an expedited airmail postcard. It was a panorama of the Manhattan skyline, the glossy cardboard banged up from a long journey. She closed and locked her box and flipped the card over. She stared at her sister’s handwriting, so eerily like her own.
Dear Libby,
Please call me as soon as you get this! Same number as always. Dad and I will be in Wellington the second weekend in July. I can’t wait to see the country and, more importantly, you! Would you pick a good place to meet us for dinner while we’re in town? We’d both love to see you—yes, really. Hope you’re doing well. I miss you.
Love,
Abby
Libby blinked a few times. Her head had already been pounding and now her heart joined it. She glanced at the post office clock. One in the afternoon, which made it five p.m. on the East Coast, yesterday. Her sister might be about to sit down to Sunday dinner—an unlikely guess and a lame excuse to put the call off, but Libby wasn’t feeling choosy at the moment.
Worry enveloped her like an itchy sweater. She strode out of the lobby and off toward her makeshift therapist’s office.
Colin slowed his bike as he reached the dispatch, dying for lunch and a break from the cold air and the even colder glares from the drivers he routinely pissed off.
He pushed the door in and waved wearily at Pete, the guy who manned the phones.
“Hey, Col. You’ve got a visitor.” Pete nodded to the seats lined up against the window. Libby raised her hand, her smile like a kick in the midsection, as always.
He leaned his bike against a wall. “How’s the hangover?”
“It’s been overshadowed by something far more painful. Can I talk to you for a minute?” She looked calm but pale.
He nodded. “I’ve got to eat. Can we talk over food?”
“Yeah.”
They walked a half a block in silence to Colin’s default lunch destination. He ordered a lamb kebab and sat down with her at a wobbly table. His nerves felt raw. He was willing to guess she’d regained a few memories from the prior evening, and he dreaded the apology he felt coming.
“What’s up?”
She blew out a tense breath and rubbed her temples. “I got a postcard from my sister today.”
“Oh. Is everything all right? Back home?”
“Yeah, I think so. But she’s coming to town. With my dad. The end of this week, I think.”
He nodded, cautious. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It’s…it’s just a thing. Not good or bad.” She toyed with her bracelets. “I have two questions for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you recommend somewhere decent-ish to take them for dinner? Somewhere nice, but not fancy-pantsy.”
“Sure. I’ll jot down a few places that might suit. What’s the other question?”
“Would you be my date?” Her brows rose plaintively.
He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued. A chance to meet her father was enticing, ditto her twin sister. A chance to pretend he was meeting these people as her boyfriend felt ten times more pleasurable than it should have. “Do you need one? A date?”
“I’m petrified to go alone.” The strain tightening her face confirmed this.
“And I guess you can’t take Reece.”
“Yeah, that’d be genius. ‘Hey, Dad, this is my date. Oh, you know him already? You hired him to stalk me, you say? Wow, what a small world!’”
“You don’t think I look enough like my brother to raise any suspicions?”
She shook her head. “Not enough. But we’ll need to give you an alias.”
“Fun. I’d been feeling left out of all the espionage going on around here.” He tucked into his wrap, struggling to process how this invitation made him feel. Honored? Used? Obscenely and disproportionately pleased?
She let out another deep breath and slumped in her seat, relieved. “Thanks.”
Colin pulled out a pad and pen, and scribbled some restaurant ideas between bites. An acute and irrational desire to impress Libby’s father tightened his chest, but he kept the suggestions upscale-casual. He doubted she owned anything dressier than jeans, anyhow.
“Thanks,” she said, scanning the list. “Say, do you know when your brother’s got an evening off from the pub and the studio, next?”
“Hmm…three nights from now, I think.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
A little knot of hateful, all-too-familiar jealousy twisted in Colin’s gut. “You look like you’re up to something.”
She raised her shoulders in sheepish mock-innocence.
“Well, I better head out.” He ran a napkin over his mouth and stood, chasing an urge to get back to the distractions of work. “Maybe I’ll see you soon?”
“I’ll let you know the exact date for the dinner thing when I know it.”
“Sounds good. I’m sure I can trade shifts with Annie or Reece for the pub, if I need to.”
She stood and stuffed her hands in her pockets, and smiled weakly at him.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked.
“A little. I have to call my sister back. We haven’t spoken in over a year…which is completely my fault.”
“I know how that goes.”
Her eyebrows asked Oh? but her lips stayed sealed.
“You’ll be fine. Just keep calm and lay off the sauce for a little while.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, that goes without saying.”<
br />
“Well,” he said as they exited, “I’ll see you soon.” Soon meaning every second of every day in his mind’s eye, until the next time they met for real.
“Great. Thanks, Colin.” Those final two syllables sounded so raw and sincere his heart broke a little.
He pulled her into a quick hug, regretting it instantly. When she turned away, he felt another hunk of his sanity crumble to dust and blow down the street after her.
Chapter Fifteen
“Fuck me.” Colin felt his eyes widen. He clicked off the evening news and sat up straighter on the couch as Libby closed the door behind her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
This was dressed to the nines—for Libby, anyway. She had on a swishy white-and-red-striped knee-length skirt made of several gauzy layers that puffed out from her impossibly long, slender waist, a vintage-looking cloud of a thing. Her calves were pale and smooth, and Colin wanted to press his lips against the tiny razor nick he saw on her shin. Over the skirt she had on a red, long-sleeved T-shirt, a couple strings of false pearls knotted between her breasts, making her look like a thrift-store flapper. Considering Libby lived in a track jacket and jeans, this was a seriously formal ensemble.
She set her bag down inside the door and unlaced her sneakers. “I’m not even done yet.”
Colin watched with unveiled curiosity as she rummaged for a pair of silver ballet flats and slipped them onto her feet.
“Ta da!”
“Damn, woman, you look right purdy. Is this what you’re wearing to see your father tomorrow?”
“Nope, this is just for tonight,” she said and gave a little twirl.
“What’s the occasion?” Colin didn’t actually care to hear the details, certain now that this transformation was intended for his brother. Although that was okay with him. It felt like acid eating away at his insides, of course, but he’d survive it. “This is for Reece?”
Her scarlet-painted lips quirked to one side. “Maybe. You told me not to give up, so I’m stepping up my game.”
Colin smiled dutifully, feeling sick. “Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Looking like that, you won’t need it.” He stood and approached, bringing his face close to hers.
Her eyes grew round but she didn’t move away.
“Breathe on me,” Colin said.
Libby complied, exhaling her predictable peppermint scent.
He stepped back a pace and nodded. “Yeah, you’re dressed just like you smell.”
“I’m very coordinated.”
“Like hell you are. I’ve seen you dance.”
She gave him a little punch on the shoulder, but there was something different about her. Something softer and unmistakably shy.
“Well, whatever you’re up to, I hope it succeeds,” he lied politely.
“Thanks. So what are you up to tonight?”
“Annie’s working and the rugby’s on, so I’ll probably be keeping her company downstairs. That’s about it. I’m bloody knackered.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been away for like four days and you’re not dying of boredom? I’m so insulted.”
“Well, all the crying and carrying on’s been pretty exhausting and time-consuming.”
“That’s more like it. So what do you think—hair up or down?” She reached back and twisted her long mess of not-quite-dreadlocks into a knot at the back of her head.
Colin couldn’t help himself. He leaned in close again and studied her face, cocking his head to one side analytically. He walked around her to take the scene in three-hundred-sixty degrees.
“Now down,” he said, and Libby dropped her hair back over her shoulders. “Up again.”
She complied.
“No, down.”
“There’s no money for the right answer.”
The closeness of her, the proximity of her smell and her eyes and her skin, emboldened Colin. He smirked and bit his lip before reaching out to touch her hair with both his hands, lifting it up and drawing it back from her face one last time.
Libby’s neck was the part of her Colin fixated on most. Like her legs and waist and arms, it was long and slender. Her hair was rarely up, but when it was he could see the darker blonde layers underneath and the pale skin that ran from the nape of her neck downward, blending with the more tanned expanse of her shoulders. There was something elementally private about this, like evidence of a hidden side of her, one not seen by others and untouched by the sunlight. Standing this close, Colin could see the peach fuzz on her ears, and the little hollows behind them that he was dying to press his thumbs into…if only he were somehow allowed to tangle his fingers deep in her hair and take her mouth with his own, as hard and deep as he’d fantasized about every day for the past month.
During the few seconds it took for these thoughts to visit him, Libby’s gaze flickered back and forth between his eyes, uncertain. It always surprised Colin when he was this near to Libby, just how close they were in height. How close those taunting, mischievous lips were. And also how very, very far away.
He dropped her hair and took her by the shoulders, giving her a little side-to-side wobble of encouragement. What he said then was “You look gorgeous. Knock him dead.” What it felt as if he said was “Here’s a rusty knife. Why not go ahead and gouge my heart out?”
Libby bit back another bashful smile and looked down. “Thanks.”
“He’s due in soon. I’m going to head down and bother Annie.”
“Cool. I think I’ll just stay up here, see what’s on the tube.”
“Right. Well, I’ll see you later, or tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, for our big date,” she said cockily, turning back into her usual self.
“You got it. Anyhow. Be good.”
“I always am.”
Colin gave her a final glance. He knew any empathetic happiness he was forcing himself to feel would die an unceremonious death the second his brother walked through the pub’s front door. He knew he’d felt some terrible things in the last few years, far worse things than this, but at the moment, it was hard to imagine it.
Libby’s heart had been pounding against her ribs the entire twenty minutes since Colin had left her alone in the living room. Every car door that slammed out on the street belonged to the Laser, in her mind. Every nondescript spike in the voices murmuring downstairs in the pub was surely the sound of Reece being greeted by his brother and sister. When the footsteps finally came, she clenched the TV remote so tightly the volume began to race up. She switched it off hastily.
Reece seemed unsurprised to find her as he stepped inside the flat. He gave her a brief smile of acknowledgement, tossing his gym bag by the wall and kicking his shoes off before giving her a good looking-over.
“Gidday, Lib—” He started. “Oh, crikey. You look nice tonight.”
“Hey. And thanks.” She stood, picking up her empty wine glass as an excuse to appear busy and nonchalant. “How were your classes?”
“Not bad. How’ve you been? This must be the longest we’ve gone without seeing you here.”
“Yeah, I had some work to do.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” Reece said, sounding genuine and lifting her spirits. “We’re overdue for a photo shoot. Colin told me you’re seeing your dad tomorrow.”
She nodded, mood dipping.
“He called me yesterday. Your dad, I mean. We’re meeting the day after next, to check in. I don’t want to turn up empty-handed.”
“I can spare a morning.”
“Good… You, um, recovered from your festivities the other night?” he asked with a teasing smile. “Colin said you really tied one on.”
“God, don’t remind me.” She faked a casual, self-effacing laugh.
Reece looked shifty. “Well, just…be careful in the future.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m never drinking that much ever again. God knows what an ass I must have made of myself.”
Unlike
his brother, Reece did not attempt to correct her on this point.
She cleared her throat. “So…”
Reece went to hang his coat up. “Yeah?”
“What are you up to tonight? You feel like hanging out?”
He glanced at his phone’s screen. “For a bit, maybe. I’m going to ring in a pizza, if you’re hungry. I figured you must be going out, looking like that.”
“Nah, just playing dress up.”
He nodded, walking back over. “Well, sure then, I’ll hang out. Although I look like a bit of a slouch now. Didn’t realize there was a dress code—”
He was silenced as Libby’s mouth collided with his. It was their least orchestrated kiss to date, lacking in grace and chemistry.
“Well,” Reece said after they found their rhythm a bit. “That sort of hanging out, then?”
Libby wiped the lipstick off the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I’d hoped. I know the last time was strange, when I ran off. I was having a weird day. I’m cool now.”
He looked pensive, but nodded. “Sure.”
His hand swept out as an invitation, and Libby preceded him to his room. He closed the door behind them. She’d been hoping to stir enough desire in him that they’d wind up tangled together on the couch or the floor, too frantic to go in search of privacy. That’s how she’d pictured it going. This evening was supposed to be different, transformed by a passion that superseded Reece’s usual teacher-student shtick and left him anything but the picture of self-control and courteousness. Curses.
Libby sat on the bed, awaiting her ravaging.
“So,” Reece said evenly. “What’s the lesson this evening?”
“Not a lesson. I just want to mess around with you.”
“Right. Want some wine?”
“Nope, just you.”
He smiled, looking flattered but hesitant. “You’re getting me at my most stinky tonight. That okay?”
“Yeah, I like your smell.”
Her eyes took him in, so frigging good-looking, even more exciting after a few days’ separation. She hoped her desperation wasn’t as plain as it felt.
Reece pulled his socks off, and she let her shoes drop to the floor beside them. They reclined together on the bed. He kissed her, starting slow as usual, the tension building until Libby could feel desire eclipse her nerves. Reece’s mouth was hot on her throat, and she ran her hand down his body, cupping him. She felt him growing beneath the fabric of his track pants as she rubbed, listened to the sounds of his enjoyment as his breath warmed her skin. His palm left her hip to slip under her skirt and return the caress. She slid her hands inside his underwear and stroked him, thrilling at the sound of his surprise.
