Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  Marlow primps her hair. “Prepare for the wind, but nothing a great hairspray can’t handle.”

  Nodding, Cammie says, “So I should do it?”

  Excited for my friend, I take her hand. “You should. It’s going to be perfect in the Hamptons.”

  “Yeah, maybe this is meant to be. And since we had to use the hotel for our vendors, we lost everything from the caterer to the florist. They’ve returned our money, which frees it up to spend again.” Her phone rings. “Speaking of, it’s Amanda. Gotta run. Thank you for everything and the gifts.”

  Marlow says, “Enjoy the gravy boat.”

  I’m not sure if Marlow’s being sarcastic, but Cammie laughs as she walks away. Turning back to face us, she says, “I will. Gravy for every occasion.”

  “I can’t wait,” I reply, laughing.

  Marlow says, “I don’t like gravy.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before. It’s gelatinous to you, but I could eat a vat of cream gravy. So good.”

  “And so Southern of you.”

  I shrug unapologetically. Now that I’m thinking about it, I should cook chicken fried steak with cream gravy for dinner. I bet Rad would love it.

  When we start for the curb, Marlow checks her phone. From where I stand at her side, I can read the message on the screen: Wear the red.

  “Wear the red? Sounds sexy,” I say, pursing my lips to the side, trying to figure out who she’s going to see. “Hot date?”

  “It’s nothing.” The phone is quickly dropped into her purse, and suddenly, everything is way more interesting than me. She’s great at avoiding topics that make her uncomfortable, but I still see right through her.

  I’d love to give her a hard time and dig for more details, but even in five-inch heels, she’s taking the lead. She hails a cab, and of course, two speed her way. Dressed to kill in a pale pink dress and black heels will do it. She climbs in the back just as I reach the taxi.

  She gives the driver directions and then sits back, clutching her purse.

  “If you don’t want to talk about some guy you’re seeing, that’s fine, but can we talk about Rad?” I ask.

  Rad always says my eyes are beautiful, but Marlow’s are striking and piercing when she doesn’t want to discuss a certain topic. Like now.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I say, “I’ve heard a little about this, but I guess I’m wondering when the charade ends?”

  Shrugging, she asks, “What’s the hurry? We’re not hurting anyone.”

  Except me, though technically, I don’t have a right to that claim. They aren’t hurting me at all. But the thought of them even pretending is starting to bug me more and more. Among others, this is one of the reasons I can’t share my happiness with my friends. And why isn’t she in a hurry to end it?

  Marlow always gets the guy. Now I’m dating the only one I’ve ever dreamed of, and for him to even pretend to date her feels like a slap in the face of our relationship. Maybe I’m being irrational. They haven’t done anything, and they don’t plan to, other than put on a little show for her dad. What’s the harm in that?

  Maybe there is none. . .

  “Just curious. It’s a little odd to scheme your dad out of an apartment.”

  Offense tightens her lips. “We’re not scheming, Tealey. He wants to give me the apartment.”

  “Under the guise of being with Rad.” I hate how angry I sound. It even catches her off guard.

  “Why are you so upset, Tealey? Why do you even care?” Something dawns in her eyes before I can think of how to answer that. “Are you jealous?”

  And there it is . . . laid out in the simplest form.

  I am jealous of their fake relationship. It makes no sense other than I want him all to myself. Leaning forward, I ask the driver, “Do you mind turning up the air-conditioning?”

  “Oh, my God,” she says, sitting back and angling her knees toward me. “You’re jealous. Why? Why would you be . . . Ah. Only you’re allowed to have a crush on Rad.”

  “You have a crush on Rad?”

  She stares at me, her expression kicked into neutral. When she sighs, she faces forward again. The silence is killing me, so I start tugging at a loose thread on my shirt’s hem. Seconds feel torturously long and turn into minutes. I glance out the window, knowing we’ll be approaching Rad’s building soon.

  Desperate to get answers and then smooth things over before I have to leave, I ask, “Marlow?”

  Her sigh is heavier this time, filled with disappointment, like her eyes when she looks at me. “I don’t have a crush on Rad. I never did, and I don’t now.” The car pulls to the curb.

  Her tone is steeped in anger, and she looks away from me again.

  Having her mad at me hurts, and I’m not sure I can fix this before costing her a fortune in cab fare. “I’m sorry.” Lifting her chin minutely, she continues to stare ahead. “I think it’s best if I just leave—”

  “Yes,” she adds.

  I open the door and wade through the quicksand of emotions as I get out of the vehicle. I can’t leave it like this. Turning back, I lower my head. “Marlow, I’m—”

  “It doesn’t bother me that you think I have a crush on Rad. He’s the type I usually date—attractive, great body, even better career, and financially well off.”

  Though I’m tempted to roll my eyes, I don’t because it will only add fuel to the fire. This time, I keep my mouth shut. She continues, “So it’s not a great leap to assume we’d make a great couple. We’re a match on many levels. But what hurts is you think I’d act on it, knowing how you feel about him.” She grabs the handle of the door and slams it shut.

  The cab pulls away, leaving me standing with my jaw on the sidewalk and a spike through my heart.

  Marlow is not my enemy, like Kayla. She’s the opposite, my best friend. Of course, she’d never hurt me. I just wish that while they get to go public with their arrangement, I wasn’t stuck hiding the real thing.

  Just a few more weeks, I remind myself as I head for the apartment. Why’d I let jealousy get in the way of my friendship? I stop and pull out my phone. Texting Marlow, I type: I’m sorry. I know you’d never hurt me.

  The three dots wave across the screen, not coming soon enough. When they disappear, a message replaces them: I appreciate that because I wouldn’t, but I worry that you’re going to be hurt when he starts dating someone seriously. Maybe it’s time for you to start dating again. I know this great guy, an art collector, who could take your mind off Rad. I’ll shoot him a text.

  Panicking, I start typing: No.

  Me: I’m good.

  Me: I don’t need to be set up.

  Me: I’m good.

  Crap! I already typed that.

  Marlow: Too late. He said yes to being your date to the wedding.

  Beyond a million reasons I can think of why I don’t need my friends setting me up, everything from I don’t need a man to complete me to dealing with enough life changes at the moment, only one matters most.

  Rad.

  31

  Tealey

  A warm shower clears my head but doesn’t wash away my sins.

  I’m about to shut off the water when the door opens. I turn to find Rad—shirtless with only his boxer briefs on. “Want some company?”

  He makes it hard to say no, but I need to, for me. “Will you hate me if I say no?” I ask, setting the soap down.

  “No.”

  “No,” I say with a heavy sigh.

  “Rough bridal shower? It’s not even five, and you look exhausted.”

  “I am. Emotionally.”

  Reaching in, he tips my chin up. “Do you want to talk about what’s making you so sad?”

  Do I? Do I want to reveal how I got jealous over a relationship that doesn’t even exist? Kind of . . . just to get it off my chest. “Marlow and I got in a fight.”

  His eyes jump from my chest to my eyes, losing some of the intimacy we just had. “We should probably wait to talk about that. I h
ave a hard-on looking at my girlfriend naked in the shower. Not something I want to be sporting when we’re talking about our friends. That just feels . . .wrong.”

  “Good point,” I say, using one of his favorite phrases as I turn the lever. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  With my hair wrapped in a towel and my most cozy, aka comforting, pj’s on, I walk into the living room where Rad is watching a game. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “I take it today didn’t go well?”

  “I accused her of liking you.” I plant myself on the arm of the couch opposite of him.

  Staring at me, I don’t think he blinks for a solid thirty seconds. “And why would you do that?”

  “Honest answer? Jealousy.”

  Confusion has him shaking his head. “Why would you be jealous of Marlow?”

  He makes it sound like such an impossibility to be jealous of a five-foot-seven blond beauty who’s prettier than any actress in the movies. She’s wealthy, funny, and has great style. What’s not to be jealous of? “That you two get to be public when we have to hide what we are.”

  His brows cinch together. “Marlow and I aren’t in public together, not more than friends when the six of us hang out. It’s only for her dad, and we haven’t even had to perform.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet is correct.” He moves closer, leaning forward to rest his hands on my legs. “I know this makes no sense. Believe me when I tell you that it didn’t make any sense to me either. But sometimes, we do things as a means to an end. The partners at the firm knew I was having a meeting with Bob Marché, and they expected me to close it to make sure our firm was attached to his case. So I couldn’t walk away.”

  “You couldn’t walk away from Bob, but why couldn’t you walk away from Marlow on this one thing?”

  He rubs his hands down the back of my legs, pausing to hold my calves. When he looks back at me, he says, “It felt like a package deal.”

  “You work off logic and reasoning, not feelings, Counselor. Why the change in direction this time?”

  “My honest answer,” he starts, looping to what we should always be—honest. “I don’t know. She was trying to talk me into it. I said no at first, but then in some twisted dimension of my brain, she started to make sense. Add in the pressure I feel from the partners to keep her dad as a client, and I can’t explain it more than that. But I did make a commitment—to her and the firm.”

  He runs off logic, but I can’t seem to explain his reasoning to my heart. I only know how it makes me feel. “So it doesn’t matter what I say? You’re going to continue this charade?”

  “I made a promise,” he says with finality, giving me a peek into his attorney side.

  “And you made me your girlfriend.”

  That’s the difference when it all boils down. I could overlook the Marlow thing when Rad and I were just having fun, when I didn’t really have a say in anything. But he asked me to be his girlfriend, and for some reason, that makes this thing with Marlow feel different.

  Shouldn’t it matter what I think? Shouldn’t he take my feelings into consideration? I know Rad. He’s always so thoughtful. Maybe that’s why it feels more like the tip of a betrayal digging into my heart this time.

  His jaw hardens, but his eyes remain softer, gazing upon me—his aura a dichotomy. “Are you making me choose, Tealey?”

  Getting to my feet again, I shake my head in frustration and take a deep breath to help stave off the sadness threatening to fill my chest. “No, Rad. I can’t make you do the right thing.” I start for my bedroom, aware that this conversation is not only coming to an end but also hitting rock bottom. I need to end it before we both say something we’ll regret.

  He asks, “Is it so wrong?” I stop just shy of the door. “When no one’s getting hurt?” That’s what Marlow said.

  I glance back. “You sure about that?”

  The first crack in my heart was felt in the cab with Marlow. I didn’t expect it to break with Rad altogether.

  I shut my door and climb into bed. I can smell his cologne lingering on the pillow, the sheets still rumpled from this morning. We’ve staked claim to both beds like we always knew we’d have the luxury of using both. Now, lying here with the early evening light sneaking in through the blinds, I start to wonder if we were occupying both so we’d always have the option to return, if needed.

  Is it needed?

  My heart races, my breathing shallow. I push up on my hands and hate this—all of it. The situation, that it feels like there are sides to choose, and most of all, my jealousy.

  These two people are my friends, and I know they aren’t out to hurt me. I know that. This scenario was in place before I moved in, and I need to give them a bit of grace as they try to navigate it. At least until Rad makes partner.

  My emotions swirling, I’m quick to the door. But when I pull it open, he’s already standing outside it.

  His eyes search mine with a tenderness, a softness that punches me in the heart.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, embracing him.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses my forehead. “You don’t have to be.”

  “But I am.”

  He takes my hand and leads me to the windowsill, where we sit across from each other. “Look, Tealey, this is an unusual situation. We thought it made sense to hide our relationship for the time being. Things change. We evolve. And though we just made that decision, it’s not set in stone.” Bridging the gap that divides us, he caresses my cheek. I lean into his comfort as he takes my other hand and kisses my palm. “I don’t want us to hide. That’s how I feel inside. The man who wins awards for staying single wants to show the rest of the world how I feel.”

  I kiss his palm and then hold it between us, realizing that though this is hard to talk about, I’m glad I did. “Real sounds very official, Mr. Wellington.”

  Taking my hands, he brings me in closer and then leans in so we’re just a breath apart. “It is official. You feel right.” Our lips meet in the middle again, and then he adds, “You. This. And us. I’d shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you want.”

  My smile comes quick, my heart turning from ice to a blazing fire because of the lack of shame in his confession. “What do you suggest?”

  His eyes are set, a determination tightening his brows. “What you need matters to me.”

  My heart constricts. “I know, and I appreciate that. But what you want and need matters to me, too. And I know the promotion is important. I shouldn’t have put you in that spot . . . I was just jealous.”

  “I didn’t make it easy, but I do want to make it up to you.” His expression is bright, as if all the solutions we’ve been searching for have been found. “We start by telling our friends and family, the people who matter most.” These are the words I was craving to hear, but at what cost am I getting what I want?

  It’s not just the two of us in this relationship. There are six, and I can’t pretend what’s happening in their lives doesn’t matter. “What about Cammie and Cade’s wedding?”

  Sincere eyes that warm my insides when he looks into mine shine light into the nooks and crannies of my heart, finding a way to fill them. “You know they’ll be happy for us.” He grins. “I want this with you. No more apartment-only dates or hiding how we feel at dinner with our friends. We walk around holding hands when we want to. We kiss if we feel like kissing. Is that something you want with me?”

  My smile is wide and bright at the idea of being together outside of the apartment. “Of course,” I reply without hesitation, getting a taste of a future that felt unattainable before. “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t. I only remember resisting the urge to breathe life into my dreams.”

  A sense of relief washes through his strong features. “I’ll just assure Marlow that I’ll play my part with her father.” Holding me firmer around my lower back, he says, “But I’m not willing to sacrifice what makes you, Tealey Bell, and me happy.”

  “I want that. It helps M
arlow and you, but it gives me something to hold on to.”

  I bend back, soaking in the sunshine of this new opportunity before hugging him and kissing his neck. He says, “When we’re ready, whenever you’re ready, we can go public for the rest of the world to see how happy you’ve made me.” We kiss, and it deepens quickly.

  When I catch my breath, I say, “You’re such a romantic.” The words fall from my tongue. What a change we’ve become. From attraction to friends to lovers and now all those wonderful things rolled into one—together.

  * * *

  I wake before my alarm goes off. Reaching over, I don’t find my phone on the nightstand. I sit propped up on my elbows and look around.

  With his eyes still closed, Rad mumbles, “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I was in my room.”

  His arm slides over my middle, and he pulls me across the sheet to him. I smile, running my nails over his tan shoulder. He says, “You’re in mine.”

  “I know. But I’m starting to think we’re living together but still on our own.”

  His eyes finally open. “Huh?”

  I lie back down, facing him. Tucking my hands under my cheek, I ask, “I know it’s fast to move in together, but we’ve already done it. My room feels so far from you sometimes.”

  Since he’s barely awake, I’m probably not catching him at a great time, but what’s time when you’re in bed with your boyfriend?

  Turning to grab his watch from the nightstand, he squints through the low light of early morning to check the time. He sets it back down and then scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s 5:45 in the morning. You’re going to have to help me out here.”

  I wave my hand between us and the door. “Our rooms are so far apart in this place that I might as well still live in Brooklyn.”

  “I’ve still got nothing, Tealey. You’ll have to spoon-feed it to me.”

  Not sure what he’s not understanding, I huff and sit back up. “Why are we still existing in two rooms?”