Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  He nods before easing off the brake. “Positive.” He taps the steering wheel momentarily. “You still have your job, right?”

  “Yes. I considered transferring.”

  “Then stay. With me.”

  Though I’m not sure this is the right thing to do, I take a deep breath and take the chance. “Then it’s a yes from me, but I promise not to overstay my welcome. This will give me more time to find a new place to live instead of moving back in with my family.”

  A smile splits his cheeks. “I can’t believe you considered moving back to Texas. You know we’d help you however we could.”

  “I know,” I reply with a heavy sigh. “It’s just . . . I’m the one who helps others in need. I don’t want to put my problems on you guys.”

  “You’d rather leave us?”

  “No. I’d rather stay. Texas was a last resort.” I smile and look out the window. “I can’t imagine leaving the city. It’s become a part of my identity.” Touching his arm, I add, “I want you to know that I’ll pay you rent.”

  “We can worry about the details later.”

  Maybe he can worry about the details another time, but my money is accounted for down to the penny. Spying his modern and incredible building ahead, I know it’s a conversation we need to have sooner than later. I’m thinking half the rent of his apartment is going to mean selling some things and dipping into my savings. “Or tonight.”

  “After dinner?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising with it.

  “Deal.”

  “Just one question.”

  “Okay.” I grin, and say, “Shoot.”

  He slows the car on approach to the luxury residence. “When do you need to move in?”

  “Friday. Is that too soon?”

  Smirking, he shifts gears. “Perfect timing.”

  4

  Rad

  “You must love living here,” Tealey says.

  Pulling into the underground garage of the streamlined, modern structure reminds me of how far it had come. It was formerly a dilapidated, bordering on condemned, four-story building that housed a tailor on the top floor, a pillow manufacturer on the third, a law firm on the second, and a deli on the first, dating back to 1921.

  The bricks were crumbling around it and stood out like an eyesore on the prestigious block. The owner refused to sell it to anyone because of their visions of tearing it down and building an “ugly,” as he called it, rectangle.

  There’s no changing the shape, but I presented him with an innovative design, and he sold it to me under the condition that I would live there for three years before selling. I bought the building as an investment, but I had no problem sticking to the agreement. I love this place. Although I dipped into one of my trust funds, I scored a deal and kept the elements that could be saved intact during the renovation.

  “It’s a nice place to come home to,” I say, parking the car. “I guess you’ll get to experience that too.”

  She looks at me and grins. I’ll never get tired of seeing her like this.

  We take the elevator, which opens into the apartment. She’s been here many times over the years and even knows the code to get in the building, so when I hang my keys on a hook and toss my jacket on the back of the couch as I pass, why does it feel different with her following me this time?

  Why do I feel different?

  This is nothing more than a friend helping a friend. That’s all.

  I’m starting to wonder how many times I’m going to have to say that before I believe it.

  Tealey leans against the bar and watches me as I roll up my shirtsleeves and then activate the lights on the same keypad. The lighting in the corners goes from dim to brighter, setting an ambiance usually reserved for the end of a rough day.

  I enter the kitchen as she pushes off and walks the length of the windows from one end of the room to the other. “You’re spoiled with the views you have at the office and your apartment. Does it ever get old?”

  “No.” I chuckle, checking my liquor cabinet. “I’m out of tequila, but I can order some.”

  “It’s okay. No need. What do you have?”

  “Water, wine, whiskey, whatever you want, you get?” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I set it on the counter.

  “White wine.”

  “Sauvignon blanc from New Zealand, if I remember correctly.”

  “You do.”

  I pull a bottle from the wine fridge.

  “What kind of tacos? I can order an assortment.”

  She smiles. “Sounds great.”

  I place an order and then pour her a glass of wine and a bourbon neat for myself. I take my time, giving me a few seconds to drink her in—the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulder, the graceful way she stands with her arms clasped over each other, and the messy hair. I can’t say I haven’t thought about kissing her neck in the past or telling her that my crush has existed as long as I’ve known her. It would be a mistake, though, so I keep this silly crush to myself and hand her the glass.

  “Here you go. The taco delivery is going to take a while. They just got hit with some large orders. Want to go to the rooftop while we wait?”

  She pops to her feet. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  We’re granted a cool evening with clear skies at the tail end of sunset. After not five minutes up there, though, the food arrives, sending me down to the street level to get it. I try to cool off before pushing onto the deck again. “Food is served.”

  Not an hour after sunset, Tealey’s had her fill of tacos and is wrapped in a blanket on a lounge chair with her third glass of wine. She’s been staring at the stars since we came up here. And I’ve been staring at her from the other side of the firepit. I can, for once, without getting caught because the rest of our friends aren’t here.

  “I’ve always loved it up here,” she says, looking at me. “Comfort found in the middle of chaos. The peace reminds me of your mom’s house in the Hamptons. Her property might be my favorite place in the world. Your mom is amazing as well.”

  “She happens to adore you, too.” Kicking my feet out, I tilt back, searching for the stars among the skyscrapers. “She begs me to visit all the time.” I spy her grinning out of the corners of my eyes.

  “I can’t even wrap my head around your life. It’s so big. Does that make sense?” I understand the disbelief. My life was privileged, to say the least. Still is. Her eyes remain on mine, that comfort she spoke of reaching me. “You never talk about the divorce, only that it led you to become a lawyer.”

  “The divorce cost me everything—my mom’s peace of mind and my trust in humanity. I set out to defend the innocent and ended up helping the highest bidder. No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “What happened?”

  I take a deep breath. “The outcome of my mom’s life, and mine by default, was decided by a judge who knew nothing about my family except for our finances and what gossip columnists shared. You ready for this?”

  I don’t expect her to answer, but she nods anyway. After taking a long pull of the amber liquid, I say, “When the judge awarded the properties to my mom, mainly due to my dad’s philandering, he blamed me, and I overheard my father tell his lawyers that he’d be a lot richer if he’d worn a condom.”

  Sitting up, she covers her heart as if the ache is too much to bear. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll say one thing about who I choose to defend. They aren’t victims, but they share in their marital crimes and marriage misdemeanors like their spouses. There are no innocents when millions are on the line.”

  “I’m not judging you, Rad. You’re a brilliant man who found a path that utilizes your cleverness. My skills don’t pay well, but I feel my job utilizes my abilities. We’re on a journey doing what we were drawn to do. With that said, everyone seems to be caught up in their own lives lately. I’ve been feeling somewhat disconnected.” The gentle breeze can’t whisk away the sadness hanging on her fac
e even though I wish it could.

  “Are you—?”

  “I shouldn’t have any more,” she adds, waggling her empty glass. She leans her head against the pillow and directs her gaze back to the stars. “You know what Steve said when we broke up a few months ago?”

  I know what I said—halle-fucking-lujah—though only to myself. Sitting forward, I rest my forearms on my legs and keep that to myself. No one in our group particularly liked Steve. He just never meshed with any of us, so there’s no lost love between him and us and vice versa. But it was still a blow to her that she weathered alone. “What?”

  “He told me I was boring and had big thighs.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  Her tone didn’t deviate, but that had to sting, especially since it’s not true. My jaw clenches. I hope she can’t see my reaction. I’m usually better at controlling it.

  “I never liked that fucker,” I say.

  A burst of laughter fills the air, causing me to join her. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”

  “Why’d you keep that to yourself?” I’m shot a look that tells me she knows Jackson, Cade, and I would have paid him a visit. “Okay, then why didn’t you tell Marlow?”

  “She has a lot on her plate right now dealing with an upcoming gallery show.” Yeah, and meetings with her personal shopper. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I hate when people pity me.”

  How could she think we’d feel that way about her? “We wouldn’t pity you, Tealey. We’d probably treat you to a congratulatory dinner, though. He was such a punk.”

  “You’re the worst,” she says, but her laughter tapers off.

  Leaning back again, I swirl the remaining liquid around the edges of the glass.

  “I should have told you. You’re just always so busy that I hate to be a—”

  “I’m never too busy for you. I mean that.” I catch her eyes on me before her gaze slips to the night sky again. “And for the record, just in case me calling him a fucker wasn’t clear, I’m glad you’re not with Steve.”

  “I love you for saying that.” The warmth heard in her words fills my chest. This girl has always taken up a lot of space in my heart. Doesn’t matter that she adds, “So much for letting the cat out of the bag.” I’m not sure if she means her breakup with Steve or loving me, but I’ll go with the latter.

  She sits up, hugging a pillow to her chest. “He never liked you. That should have been a sign for me to dump him the first night he met you guys. God, how he ranted about Rad Wellington. I never really understood why he felt competitive with you. He’s not even an attorney. He’s an engineer for a pipe company.”

  I leave her to find her own answers to that question, though it doesn’t surprise me to hear about his insecurities. Steve once cornered me to ask if I had a thing for Tealey. I’d made a joke, and she laughed. Everyone did, except him. I suppose my silence as I walked away didn’t offer any comfort. Good. Fuck him.

  Rolling her head to the side, she smiles as she stuffs the pillow behind her back. “I’ll pay better attention with the next guy.”

  “There doesn’t have to be another guy . . .” What the hell am I saying? I grab my glass and finish the remains. Distract. Distract. Distract. “The moon is huge tonight.”

  She looks up, but her knotted brows top a curious look that she aims back at me. Swinging her feet back to the deck, she leans forward, the fire flickering between us. “What do you mean there doesn’t have to be another?”

  I stand, gathering the glasses and the lighter. “Nothing other than you don’t need to jump into another relationship.” Glancing at her, I add, “See how things go on your own for a while.” This time, the grin is subtle, but the round apples of her cheeks redden.

  “You’re right. I know you are.” She sighs. “I don’t even remember how Steve and I started our relationship. We went on a date, and the rest fell in line for a time.”

  “That’s not love. That’s a habit. Some habits are great, and some—”

  “And some are like lamps.” Standing, she grabs the blanket and stuffs it in the trunk. “Ready to show me the bedroom?” Would I ever. “I’d like to get a lay of the land.” Ah.

  “Sure.”

  I lead her back downstairs and drop the glasses off in the kitchen before making our way to the extra bedroom. Flicking on the light, I then step aside. “You can decorate it however you’d like. I’m sure it will be an upgrade to how bland it is now.”

  When she enters the room, the effects of alcohol have rested in her features. Quite a contrast to her gripping the seat under the Brooklyn Bridge. “It’s bigger than I expected.” Her fingers graze my arm as the tips slide down to the top of my hand before she’s out of reach. “If I sold my furniture, I could probably fit my boxes in here instead of renting a storage unit. But I can’t afford to buy new stuff. I need to save as much as I can for the security deposit and moving expenses.”

  “I can cover it if you’d like—the moving costs. Save your money for a few new pieces. Do you still have that futon from college?”

  She starts laughing. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Start with replacing that piece of junk.”

  With a little laugh, she pushes the curtains aside and looks out the window. “I might get rid of it. I should. It’s so uncomfortable.” Turning back, she adds, “But I’m not taking your money, Rad, not borrowing or accepting a loan. I could have followed in my parents’ footsteps and become a physical therapist. They make a good living, but that wasn’t my goal. Unfortunately, my chosen career doesn’t pay much, but it’s my dream. It pays enough to get by. I just . . .” I lean against the doorframe and watch as she explores the room. Her eyes find the window, and she pauses. “I’m not sure my job is the dream I imagined in my head.”

  It’s interesting how I’ve known her for so many years, but tonight, I’m seeing more of who she is on the inside. The dynamics of six can overshadow the individual. She’s more than the pretty face, the girl with a great smile and charitable soul. She’s more than the few parts I’ve seen. I’ve wasted so much time keeping her at a distance that I’ve missed being a part of the story. She’s ethereal. And I want more of her.

  She sits on the bed and then lies back with her arms spread and her eyes closed. “This bed is what heaven must feel like.”

  “My mom likes it too.” At that, she smiles softly. “If you could do anything, what would it be?”

  She takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly. Turning her head toward me, she props herself up on her elbow. Excitement flickers in her eyes, a wild confession that has me fixed on her every word. “I would start a program to help kids in need. I’d raise money to help them however I could from getting them off the streets to getting them nutritious meals to after-school programs and tech training.”

  Impressive. And so Tealey. “Do you want to continue working on the front line, or would you ever want to be behind the scenes?”

  “Depends on where I’d be most effective.”

  “Why did I not know this? Do the others?”

  Shaking her head, she says, “No one ever asked.”

  So humble. “You have a big heart, Tealey.”

  “And a small bank account. I should have asked you way before falling in love with this bed, but how much is half the rent?”

  I give her a look. “You aren’t paying me anything. Save your money for the new place.”

  Bolting upright, she’s apparently gotten a second wind. “No way. I insist.”

  I suspect her current rent would be about a quarter of what one of my tenants would pay. But I’m not going to throw that in her face.

  “My studio in Brooklyn is sixteen hundred a month, so I can pay you the same while I’m here.”

  Almost two thousand a month for the dump where she lives? That building should have been condemned thirty years ago.

  “You’ll need money for the new place, so why don’t we cut a deal and say two fifty? You’re only getting
a room. That way, you can save and get ahead.”

  Her eyes stay locked on mine as if she’ll find another answer. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”

  “I’d be fine with you staying for free. The room doesn’t go away when you’re not here, so I’m used to covering my expenses.”

  Standing, she comes to me as if we’re those kinds of friends, the kind that touch and hug and—oh fuck. Maybe we are those types of friends. “You’re an amazing man, Rad.” She pats me on the chest. “You know that?”

  “I’ll take amazing.” I angle toward the door to lead her out but stop. “By the way, I’m glad you dumped that fucker.” That elicits a chuckle from her.

  Her smile slides away as she looks up at me. She sighs. “I wish I could find a guy like you. You’re too good to me.”

  “A guy like me?” Tealey wants a guy like me?

  “You drive me around in your fancy car, and you feed me, give me shelter . . .” Her hand flattens on my chest, just over my heart. I cover it with mine, trying hard not to have her hear my nerves through a hard swallow. The light from the living room shines in her eyes, and another smile appears. “Thank you for everything you’re doing, but also for sharing your story about the divorce with me.”

  Fuck it. I swallow the lump in my throat down, not even apologizing for how loud it is. “I’m glad I did as well.”

  I don’t think she realizes that she’s patting to the beat of my heart. “Being here already feels like home, but speaking of, I should go.”

  “I’ll call a car to take you home.”

  “Thanks.” She’s gone from the room too fast for my liking, leaving me alone. “Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath. The woman has me spinning like my liquor.

  I catch her picking up her bag. “You’ve made my week, Rad. Hell, my month. Thank you for letting me move in.” She comes closer and nudges me with her elbow. “Roomie.”

  “Roomie . . .” I’m not sure this is how I imagined our relationship going. Utterly confused now, I scratch the top of my head. What the actual fuck am I doing? The woman who I’ve pined over for more than seven years, and that I’ll deny if put on the stand, is going to be sharing the same roof as me—breakfast, dinner, late nights.